Dimensions
by lanakael
Summary: Freddy plots revenge from Hell, but gets more than he bargined for while spying on an AU version of himself and his family. Ch 12 now up!
1. Default Chapter

Dimensions Rating: Chapter 1-PG-13 for a few cuss words and to be on the safe side. It'll probably get worse as it goes along. And sorry for C1 being so long(possibly rambling sorry againS), I'm writing this on impulse and just letting it go where my muse takes me.

I don't own anything in this story pertaining to New Line Cinema or the Freddy franchise. All original characters are mine.

A/N: 8/30/04 Chapter 1 cleaned up so none of y'all get a headache while reading!SAnd CHEERS to my wonderful Hubby, who got me the NOES BOX SET for my b'day!! Go Mike, go Mike...

DIMENSIONS CHAPTER 1

He knew rage.

The burned man was bored. He was angry. He'd thought Hell would be different, that his name, his fame, his sheer evil nature would be enough. A "get out of jail free" card, if you will. But the demons who had allowed him his start, frustrated by his many failures, had abandoned him. No backing, no help, no way out. And with an eternity of boredom to fight, he'd honed his skills in his new home, carving yet a new name for himself with an intensity and glee even the Prince himself respected..and feared. The denizens of Hell all learned to fear the sight of the red and green shirt, the brown Fedora hat...and that claw. Hell's highest level henchmen learned to never look directly into the crazy hazel eyes, lest they see their own torture in the insane sparkle always present. And even Satan learned the nuances of that raspy, sardonic voice, to quake at the sound of that bottomless chuckle, to breathe easier when realizing it wasn't directed toward him. All of Hell feared, hated, yet respected the burned man..and that's just the way he liked it.

It was this fear more than anything else that prompted the Prince to show the burned man one of the few pleasures accorded to only the highest of rank: the chamber where the Prince spied on the living, seeing who was worthy of his attention. The privilaged few gathered here daily for this pleasurable torture, to peer into the scrying pools and watch the breathing beings they hated the most as they went about thier miserable lives. The evil beings schemed and dreamed and relived their glory days here, hoping to be the next the Prince would allow to be reborn into the living world, to wreak havoc again.

Tonight was no different from any other, except tonight the burned man was in the midst of the highest echelon. Those in the room skittered away uneasily as the burned man pompously selected the largest of the scrying pools for himself, uncaring of the resentful mutters directed at him. He would deal with the scum later. For now...he touched the surface of the pool, feeling its surface attune with his memories and desires, letting him see what he wanted to see. His gaze burned as he stared at the tiny town, the town that once was on the verge of meltdown due to him, the town that once thrilled with fear at the very hint of his name. That town, in the brief three years since his journey to Hell, had vanished. The dark pall surrounding the town was lifted, people going about their business with none of the fearful, suspicious glances that marked its residents. Old buildings had been torn down and new ones rested in their place, new paint, shrubbery, commerce. And it seemed the renovations had sparked a mass immigration into the town, it literally _crawled_ with people, and even the park...park??--the burned man's mind swam with this revelation, the old park had been closed, its amusements dismantled years ago--was swarming with children, from babies bawling in their walkers to bored teenagers looking resentfully after younger siblings. His town..HIS town..was full of offerings for him, and he couldn't collect! He howled, lashing out with his clawed hand blindly and catching a too-close unfortunate in the stomach. The other man howled just as loudly, looking down in time to see his guts spilling to the rocky floor. He glared balefully at the still screaming, clawed man, as he bent to pick up his insides and get out of range. His anger didn't stem from the severity of his wounds--the dead couldn't die, of course. But they could still feel pain, and this was going to be a _bitch _for the few hours it took to heal, not to mention damned inconvenient. He glared at the burned man a few moments more, then turned his insolent stare to the throne where the Prince reclined. Just who _was _in charge here these days, anyway?

The Prince burned with his own rage. He could feel the heated stares being levelled his way, and it took a supreme amount of effort not to lower his eyes in shame. His gut clenched. He hadn't had an uprising in mellinia, but it looked like he was about to get a reminder, if the glares tossed his way more frequently were any indication. If the burned man had shown any humiliation, any respect, then things would've been delightfully different, he could've been in the highest echelon, perhaps even earned his way back to the surface. But Lucifer could never allow that, he was starting to think that maybe his position was being threatened--that the clawed, burned man was becoming too ambitious for his own good. Allowing him back on earth would rob him of even more souls, since he no longer thought the burned man would be content to stick to his own town--or even his own state. Lucifer lowered his chin to his hands and thought. He needed a way to punish the man. Nothing obvious, that would open a can of worms he wasn't yet ready to deal with. He needed something subtle, something that could bring the man down without him realizing it, chastise him and let him know where his place really was in the scheme of things. The Prince smiled as an idea came to him.

"Krueger!" he yelled, instantly recoiling as the steely gaze snapped round and leveled on him. He schooled his features into a properly pleasant(for him)expression and started toward the scarred man, dropping his voice. "Freddy," he mock purred, advancing slowly as the plan played itself out in his mind. "My friend!".

Freddy continued to stare at him, tapping one of his claws thoughtfully against his lower lip. Something was up, he could almost smell it on his "host". Was it something that could be used against him, or...? He smiled deviously to himself as he met his "Prince" halfway. "You rang? "Freddy stopped and fanned out his blades in a show of boredom.

Lucifer held his expression, though his eyes blazed. Patience...he had to play this properly. "Come with me a moment? I have something to show you...something very few get to see". He watched as Freddy's eyes shifted between confused, suspicious, and vaguely intruiged.

"Very few? You mean something even these pissants," his eyes scornfully swept the room where every occupant was intently regarding the exchange, "haven't seen? And it's not even my birthday!"Lucifer chuckled dutifully and walked off, knowing Freddy would follow. As they left Lucifer turned his head so Freddy couldn't see, looking back at the assemblage, knowing their looks of outrage and near mutiny. He smiled at them all before turning away. _Trust me _that smile said. _I'm still in charge, and I'm going to take care of everything_

Lucifer reached a door and opened it, going in first to assure the other man there were no traps. Inside, the room looked almost exactly like the room they'd just left, causing Krueger to screw his face up in confusion. "Mind telling me what the suprise is? The cable was fine in the other room, so what's up? HBO, Pay-Per-View? Playboy?" His chuckle said he wasn't pleased and some answers better come up _fast_ or things were going to get unpleasant.

_Upstart bastard,_ Lucifer thought, though his expression never changed. _Things are _definately _going to change around here. _"This," he explained, touching a scrying pool, "is our link to...well, to use your theme, the Premium channels". He touched the pool again and it came to life, showing a magnificant scene of Heaven. Angels flew and sang and talked, and in the center of a large group of relaxing angels stood one of the most beautiful "men" Freddy had ever seen. His wings were brushed with gold and seemed alive. His handsome face was lit with the glow of peace, love, and security, and the sight almost moved even Krueger's evil heart. Something nagged at him though....

"Who is that angel? The one in the middle of that group? He seems familiar".

"He should," Lucifer responded, "because that's me--or would've been had I not fallen from Grace." Several things clicked in Freddy's mind. "You mean these pools show you what could've been? I still wanna know what the hell this has got to do with me".

"Yes Freddy, some of these pools _do_ show what could be. But some," here he touched yet another of the pools, watching as it came to life, "Are what already _is_ happening. In other worlds, other times."

Freddy stepped closer, watching the young man hurry to some unknown destination. He was well dressed and only the facial features gave any hint that this could've been the Prince of Darkness standing next to him. Lucifer watched him watch the pool and smiled, knowing the paths Freddy's mind was taking. For all his ambition, he was just as predictable as any other "evil" being, and that's what made Lucifer's job frequently enjoyable. He waved grandly at the scores of pools. "Have at it then. There's an eternity of Springwoods to wreak havoc in, and I'm sure you and I can reach an agreement beneficial to us both in all of them". Lucifer touched one more pool. "If you need anything, this pool will summon someone. Take as long as you want". He stepped out of the room, smothering an evil laugh as he left the former dream demon to himself.

Freddy stared at the pools for the longest time, chewing his lip in thought. So many Springwoods! He'd told someone once, "Every town as an Elm Street," now it seemed every dimension had a Springwood. It never crossed his demented mind that not all his alternate selves might be evil. All he knew was that his children awaited him, and he wanted to see how well he was doing in each dimension. He touched the first pool eagerly and sat down to enjoy the show....


	2. Alternate Lifestyles

Dimensions Chapter 2--Alternate Lifestyles I don't own...blah blah blah....ZZZzzzz... PG-13 to be on the safe side, dunno where I'm going with this Special thanks to Jane for giving me the name of Freddy's wife--I'd name my firstborn after you, but I don't think my son would like that very much, especially after 5 years of being stuck with the more masculine Alex.*S*Thanks again!  
  
Alternate lifestyles  
  
The man hummed to himself as he puttered in his garden. The warm sun and gentle breeze lulled him, and he shook himself a bit to wake up and cast an eye to the children playing in the yard. The boys were kicking a ball around; Darren Jr., or DJ, as he was affectionately called, using his size and bulk to keep the ball away from his brother Adam. The younger boy's shouts floated across the yard as he tried to keep up with his brother. The man watched them a second, then turned his attention to the little girl, Jenna. She was dressed in one of the frilliest sugar-spun creations he'd ever seen in his life, and looked the little lady of the house as she held court with an array of stuffed animals. She was deftly serving tea and cakes in the pretty tea set her grandparents had recently gotten her, and both tea and cake looked suspiciously like mud. The man grinned to himself. His wife was going to throw a fit, especially if...too late. He grinned again as she wiped her muddy hands on her pipe-icing dress. He could already hear Loretta tsk'ing and lecturing on the virtue of young ladies as she scrubbed out the mud.  
  
The man was jerked back to awareness as a ball crashed into his prize- winning rosebush, cracking several of his cherished roses off their stems. The kids froze in shock. Everyone knew Paw-Paw's roses were almost as precious to him as his family, especially this time of year, when the Home Association went from house to house, selecting from its members top prizes for home and garden. Jenna's eyes were wide, muddy hands pressed to her mouth. Adam's lower lip quivered; even DJ looked scared, his eyes trained to his grandfather's face for a reaction. The man glared balefully at the ball for a second, then turned a mournful gaze to his rose bush, now minus several roses. The kids watched him with uncharacteristic fear: Paw-Paw had certainly never, ever given them reason to be afraid, but these WERE his prize roses after all. The man slowly looked up from his roses to regard them and they all flinched back. He briefly considered using that to his advantage, after all, how many times had he told the kids not to play rough this close to his rose bushes? He changed his mind as he saw his grandbabies' reactions-they were literally frozen with fear, the younger kids almost in tears. He'd never raised his kids with fear as motivation for good behaviour; he'd be damned if he'd raise his grandkids like that. Setting down his gardening shears, he opened his arms to his babies. They shrank back, unsure. He sighed and opened his arms wider, smiling gently. "Come here, piglets," he sing-songed. The crept like wounded animals into his arms and he cuddled them close as if they were still babies, reassuring them, letting them know that he could never be mad at them, telling them silly stories until the tension left their bodies and they were happy again. They drowsed together a moment in the mid-afternoon sun, then the man threw the ball back into the main yard, watching the boys as they scampered after it, squealing happily. He regarded his granddaughter, taking in her confectionary dress, streaked with mud.  
  
"You DO know your grandmother's not going to be pleased with you for this, don't you?" he asked, tapping a mud crusted ruffle on Jenna's dress. The little girl nodded seriously.  
  
"But Paw-Paw, I just HAD to have a party today, it's Sammy Squirrel's birf'day, and Miss Bettina said I gotta thwo' him a party! And the Fairy Queen said she'd show up wif all her Fairy sisters so it'd be th' bestest party ever!" Jenna pointed a tiny finger at the assorted dolls sitting at her table, then regarded her Paw-Paw with adult seriousness. "Miss Bettina wants you to come to th' party too, Paw-Paw! Will you come, pwease?" She laid her head on his chest, making her huge grey eyes even wider, and he had the feeling he was about to get suckered into something. The hell with it, he decided, what was a little suckering when it came to his babies?  
  
"Sure sweetling, Paw-Paw would love to come to your party. Should I bring a gift?" Her smile got even wider. Uh-oh, he thought. Here comes the suckering. He waited.  
  
"We-elll." she sing-songed. "You're an ADULT..and there's only enough cake and tea fo' lil people like us." She pointed to the table again. "But I really REALLY want you to have some too, so." her eyes left his face to drop to his bag of potting soil for a few moments before twisting back to him meaningfully; her eyes got even wider and her smile took on angelic proportions. He knew he was sunk.  
  
"I see. You need more refreshments, hmm?" Jenna dimpled prettily as she nodded at him. "Ah well, I think I have just the thing right here." He scooped out several handfuls of the soil and put them into a small bucket, which he handed to his granddaughter. "Here we go, M'Lady, for your party needs. Have at it, then, and I shall be along momentarily." He gave her his most courtly bow and she giggled happily, throwing her tiny arms around him for a hug before running back to her play table with her prize. He laughed as he watched her, sighing and muttering under his breath. "Your grandmother's REALLY going to kill me for this."  
  
"So she should, Fred Krueger. You spoil them shamelessly," a voice drawled from behind him. He spun quickly, then laughed again as he spotted his oldest daughter, Katherine, leaning against a tree, watching him. She looked every bit the professional psych in her natty suit, expensively tailored to a feminine polish. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun; her face free of makeup except a spot of gloss and mascara-touched lashes behind her tortoise-shell rims. Diamond earrings were her only decoration. Fred sighed. His daughter was wildly beautiful, yet despite the feminine cut of her suit, she appeared almost more masculine than he was. If only she'd take some time off work, quit that AWFUL TV show she did, buy a few dresses.maybe find a nice man. He shook himself from those thoughts and smiled at her; she rarely had time to visit these days, so each appearance was doubly cherished. He opened his garden-covered arms wide to her.  
  
"Got a hug for your old man?" he joked. He knew she'd NEVER get her expensive suit dirty. Not that she was obsessive or snotty. Downtime, she could get as dirty as the next person, and she'd spent many happy hours with her father and brothers, working on the house, the garden, or any other projects they'd decided on. But there were two Katherines, Freddy mused: Home Kathy, and Doctor Katherine Krueger. And Doctor Katherine was DEFINITELY in the house right now. He grinned again and did a little shimmy; dirt from his garden fell from his body in clumps.  
  
Katherine eyed him with mock disdain and laughed; she knew his ploys. "Not on your life, old man." She stepped toward him and aimed a light kiss to his cheek. Not to be outdone, he grabbed her and pulled her into a massive bear hug, growling for effect as he'd done many times when she was a little girl. "Daddy!!" she squealed, trying to break free. It was no use-he wasn't letting go. She sighed and gave in to the moment. Ruined work clothes were nothing to these moments, when she could leave Doctor Krueger behind and for a precious few moments just be Daddy's Girl again. Kathy hugged her father close to her, revelling in his scent as she snuggled. Ahhh.Old Spice and potting soil, the candied peppermint Mom always made on his breath; and that special smell, the one she could never quite put a name to, but could pick out blindfolded and in a crowd of thousands. Pure Daddy. She inhaled deeply and felt the stresses of the day melt away from her. Who needed therapy and feng shui and all that other crap when this was so much better? If everyone had a Daddy like hers she'd be out of a job. She snickered lightly at that thought, mind drifting as she nearly dozed in her father's arms. He let go of her after a few moments and for a minute she felt lost; it took her a moment to focus again and wonder why he was looking at her like that. His grin almost took in the tops of his ears and after a minute of speculation she caught up with his amusement.  
  
"Oh my, your poor suit," Fred almost cackled. Katherine looked down at herself and groaned. Her poor suit indeed! Her father had deliberately been grinding into her while they'd hugged; now she was almost as dirty as he was. She almost got mad-she liked order in her life(most of the time) and her father and brothers could be as bad as the children at times, if not worse. She looked up to voice her displeasure and caught the twinkle in her father's eyes, but she caught the rest of it too-the loneliness now that her youngest brother, Chris, had moved out of the house to attend a culinary school in Paris. That her brother Darren also visited far less now that his healthy lifestyles show had gone from cable to mainstream favorite. He and his wife only stopped by for brief visits, and most of those were to drop off or pick up the kids. She herself becoming a successful psychiatrist, successful enough to get her own TV show. And their mother's catering business, still going strong after all these years. She'd gained even more business right after Katherine had first gotten her TV contract almost 3 years ago. That meant that the main light in her father's life was her niece and nephews. He was proud of his family, but they were all moving away from him. Kathy sighed to herself. She'd have to make more of an effort. She hugged her father again, extra hard, grinding as he'd done moments earlier, adding more dirt to her ensemble.  
  
"Oh my..my poor suit indeed," Kathy chuckled back to her father. She moved out of the comfort of his arms, hooking one of her arms through his and tugging him toward the house. Her dad chuckled too and pulled her close as they made their way across the yard. Kathy looked up at his wonderful face, so handsome when he was smiling, and just couldn't help herself. "You ARE paying for the dry cleaning, you know."  
  
Fred just laughed, stooping down to brush a kiss to her forehead. "It was worth it," he said, pinching her cheek as he'd done when she was a child. "It was well worth it, poppet. Now let's go see what Mom's made for lunch, hmm?" And with that they mounted the steps to the house. 


	3. Anger

Rating-R for language, to be on the safe side. See ch. 1 for all other yadda yadda's.  
  
Dimensions Chapter 3-Anger  
  
"What the FUCK?!?" Freddy Krueger bellowed his rage while the happy scene played itself out before him. He'd been watching various scrying pools for several days now and had been delighted with the various degrees of evil he'd seen himself in. Of course, there HAD been several disappointing views, things he would've done differently in several scenarios. Several had made him so mad he'd seethed with anger at his situation. Had he been able to escape hell, he'd have gone to several of those alternate worlds and shown..himself?.how things were done. Then to see this.this.THIS!! A Freddy with children, grandchildren..puttering around in a fucking garden! Oh, he'd had gardens before, but it wasn't flowers that bloomed in them. He missed his children, and he was sure that they were being bad, getting into all sorts of trouble, without him. They were forgetting him, and pieces of him were dying inside with each child who forgot. Ironic, really, considering he was already dead, but there it was. He had to do something, and fast. The question was, what?  
  
He looked at the scrying pool again. The pussy version of himself was still snuggling with his bitch daughter like she hadn't caused him all sorts of trouble; like she hadn't killed him. Of course, THAT daughter hadn't, and HER father was still alive, but that wasn't the point. He could smell the goodness on that cunt-if her father would actually decide to be a man, a real man, he knew the bitch would turn on him in a heartbeat. He didn't know how they could stand it, all that goodness. And the children! His children, he wanted them so badly to be his! He turned to the pool containing "his" town, "his" universe. He needed something to distract him while he came up with a plan.  
  
Outside the chamber, all of Hell heard his bellows of pure rage. The wise got out of the way, just in case he decided to emerge from the room. The jealous-and foolish-crept closer and indulged in the pain also evident in those cries. Satan himself listened with uneasy pleasure. Of course, things were going the way he'd planned, judging by the sound of the other man's pain and anger. But Freddy was unpredictable, who knew where this could lead? Perhaps instead of learning his lesson and being the whipped dog Satan was hoping for, Freddy would become even worse. That could only spell trouble. But in the meantime, things seemed to be going well for the rest of his realm. The past few days had certainly been uneventful-as uneventful as Hell could get, anyway-and everyone was breathing a collective sigh of relief to have the burned, gloved man out of the way. Word had even "leaked" out as to the reason Freddy was cloistered away in the chamber, and the Prince of Darkness had even gained back a modicum of his old respect. Yes, so far things were going well, but how much longer they'd stay that way was anybody's guess. He needed to do something, and fast. The question was, what? 


	4. Springwood The First

DIMENSIONS PART 4: The Real World  
  
PG-13 to be safe...chap. 1 has all the legal yadda yadda's A/N: Sorry this took so long folks, got hit with a major case of the Winter Blah's...followed by severe illness that started on Thanksgiving...took the docs at my ever-so-wonderful charity hospital up to the middle of Feb. to find out the problem. Seems my gall bladder wanted a divorce! But I'm back now, healing slowly but surely, so hopefully that means I'll be updating more frequently as health, time, & family permits. In the meantime, please bear with me!  
  
I also bring some of the "normal" Springwood cast back in this chapter, including Doc. As with the Loretta issue in Chaps 1-3, I can't remember if Doc had a "real" name or was called anything else in the movie. So once again I'm making up a name for story purposes. If anyone knows Doc's "real" name, please let me know! Or better yet, flood my Husband with LOTS of hate mail until He lets me rent the movies again--or better yet until He BUYS me the complete box set on DVD!*EG*His e-mail addy is..... *********************************************************************** "Katherine..."  
  
That hateful, insidious voice. Raspy, like sandpaper, yet still managing to be slimy, as well. It sent a thrill of terror snaking down her spine. She turned a corner of the building she worked in, hoping to find sanctuary in her office. Instead, she found herself in an all-too-familiar boiler room. And that damned voice! It seemed to come from everywhere at once.  
  
"Katherine..."  
  
She whirled, not knowing what she'd face, fear lending her determination. "I'm Maggie, you bastard! Maggie Burroughs. I won't let you take that from me!" Sobbing from frustration, she turned again, ready to run, to look for a weapon, anything--only to run face-first into her greatest fear. She screamed again as Freddy caught her and pulled her close, leaning in to whisper in her ear.  
  
"I'll take more than that from you, betraying little bitch," came the soft snarl, an evil breath feathered across her cheek. Freddy's bladed hand lifted to pass over her in gross mockery of a caress: oddly father-like, undescribably obscene. Maggie could only cringe and tremble under his touch. "I'll take everything you took from me. And more. Now give Daddy a kiss...." His face loomed closer; closer..his breath carried the scent of Death. Maggie screamed....  
*********************************  
  
...and bolted upright in her bed, drenched in sweat and shivering. She gasped for several seconds that seemed like an eternity, then tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. A large, dark, meaty hand grasped her shoulder and she screamed again, loudly, and clawed at the figure at her side. Her efforts were rewarded with a masculine howl of pain, then she was dragged forward until she was touching another body. A gentle press on her head until it was resting on a solid chest. Still in the throes of her dream, she fought down the deja-vu-inspired panic that threatened to drown her, until she realized that the voice chanting her name was a smooth, softly pleasing bass; not the chilling growl she was expecting. No blades on the hands holding her; these hands were dark brown, firm yet gentle, the hands that had lulled her to sleep almost nightly for the past 3 years. Maggie twisted her head and stared up into the kind, craggy face of her most cherished friend.  
  
"Doc," she breathed out, relieved. The loving concern on her face brought every event of the past 3 years rushing back: killing Krueger, the frenzied rush from town to avoid questions. That first night as they huddled together like frightened children, she and Tracy clinging to each other desperately. And through it all, Doc. Doc, holding them both, whispering reassurances through even his own fears. Doc, coaxing both women to eat, to keep their strength up, forcing a cheerful smile as they fled to yet another town or state at Maggie's insistance. Letting both women believe that the constant moves would allow them to outrun their nightmares even as he noted and privately cried over the darkly circled eyes, the bones showing through under-fed skin, the flaring tempers and tears as both women, normally bold and vibrant, retreated into frightened, childlike dependance. Maggie burrowed into his broad chest, bursting into tears, thinking only that she let him down yet again, after all he'd done for her and Tracy both.  
  
Doc was lost in his own thoughts. For the longest time he let the women dictate their movements, wanting them to heal on their own terms. They'd shared whatever bed they could find, Maggie and Tracy clutching at him as if he could save them from any danger. He thought of those nights when they mocked sleep, lying on top of the covers, fully clothed...never allowing themselves to relax. He was as patient with them as he could be, for as long as he could be, but a piece of him died each time one of them woke up screaming. It was time they started living again. So he'd put his foot down, startin with them finding one spot and putting down roots. Then he'd asked Maggie to marry him. Each point he made he'd tried to make sound more logical than anything. There was no need to keep running, they weren't being sought after anymore. In fact, after a cursory investigation, it was like they never existed. His mistake lay in letting them choose where they wanted to live. Doc was stunned when both women agreed that they should return to Springwood. Though he hadn't been with them their first time to the hell town, he'd heard enough stories. Enough to know that returning was a bad idea. So imagine his suprise when both women stubbornly clung to their conviction. With a heavy heart, he helped his girls pack up, and away they went.  
  
His suprise was even greater when they arrived in the ghost town to find it not so...ghostly. Springwood was a town in rebirth, and the fact that it spurred positive changes in both Tracy and Maggie made Doc feel as if things could finally be turning for them all. He'd spoken at length with Maggie about adopting Tracy outright, not just to keep the courts from possibly taking her from them, but because he'd come to see her as his own daughter--as he knew Maggie did--and he'd give his life for her. And that was the reason he gave Maggie for his next step--proposing to her. It had nothing, of course, to do with the fact that taking care of her daily, and holding her nightly, had allowed him to see her better than she saw herself. It had started out so innocently, survivors clinging together for warmth, support, and survival, but if he allowed himself to be honest, he knew that his heart had been hers from the moment she'd looked at him with that determined face as they'd discussed a way to end that bastard father of hers. But he couldn't tell her that; Maggie's heart had hardened, forever, he feared. So he made it sound like a convenient proposition, a way to keep Tracy with them, a way to keep the Survivor's Club together. And it had worked. Like a charm, it seemed, since things actually had picked up after the simple courthouse wedding. Tracy had calmed down and decided to go back to school. She was actually doing well, too, and not fighting--as long as people kept their hands off her, that was. Maggie also seemed to be doing better. She'd gotten a job, along with him, at the local shelter, and they volunteered at the soup kitchen nearby. And with the town still in the process of renovation, real estate was ridiculously cheap. He'd gotten a beautiful house on an acre of land at the outskirts of town for his girls, overriding both their protests that it was too big. They were a family, he'd said, and families had nice houses, nice things. Secretly, he hoped that a return to "normal" life would thaw out and heal their hearts, allow them to be a real family, and hopefully allow a real marriage between him and his heart's desire. And maybe, in time, even a brother, or sister, for Tracy to help raise and love...  
  
Doc's attention was brought back to the present by a muffled sob. He cursed silently to himself as he cuddled his heart close to his chest. He'd been so optimistic about their future together, before Maggie's nightmares returned. Please, Lord, he prayed silently. Please, just give us this time together. Let us be happy for a change. Please. "Maggie?" he questioned. "Baby? Feeling any better?" He rubbed her back slowly to calm her, trying to give her his strength.  
  
Maggie stirred in his arms, catching a glimpse of the wedding set she wore. It almost brought a fresh wave of tears, knowing the sham their marriage was. Her Doc was so kind and gentle with her, so patient, but she knew well that he was only being a good friend, keeping their "family" together the best way he knew how. She didn't know exactly when her feelings for him had changed, but she knew they had. Even the stone that rested where her heart used to had expanded a bit to include him, to the point where the moment he'd slipped the cheap engagement ring on her finger, stammering words of assurance along with the logic. Dear, sweet Doc, she loved him more than her own life, but she didn't know how to tell him, how to be the woman she was before, the woman who could give her heart. He deserved so much more...she looked into his earnest face again, trying to sniff back her tears. She was going to do better, damn the nightmares! She cursed her father again for taking everything from her, then found herself doing something she'd not done since childhood. It had been years since she'd considered herself a religious person, but now she sent an urgent prayer heavenward. Lord, I know it's been awhile, but it's me, Maggie. Please, please, if You're really up there, please let me learn to be the woman Doc deserves. He deserves so much more than what he has. let me be what he needs. Please. She sniffled again, realized Doc was talking to her, then cleared her throat to answer.  
  
"I..I'm fine, Alan, " she replied, taking his left hand and kissing the wedding band on his ring finger. Again, she reflected that though their previous jobs might not have afforded him a more expensive wedding set, had she not come into his life with her problems, at least he could've given his heart, and those rings, to someone who could give her heart in return. She also reflected on his name, noting she still felt strange calling him by his first name. It had taken a year and a half for her to call him anything but Doc. Tracy still called him that, though she'd taken to teasingly calling him Daddy on occasion.  
  
Doc noted her reply and reactions with the skill born of a man in love. "Hush, love," he murmured, stroking her hair softly, lulling her back to sleep. He mulled again over the past three years, mostly the past few months. He didn't want to jump to conclusions. There could be a number of reasons Maggie'd started having the dreams again. It didn't have to mean that HE was back. The shiver sneaking down his back was only intensified when Tracy quietly entered the room. Maybe she was just coming in to say good night. He stubbornly maintained that theory though he knew his bedside clock said 4:30 a.m. Okay, maybe she'd heard him and Maggie talking, and just came in to check on them. She'd stopped sleeping with them well over a year ago--going from sharing their bed, to sleeping on the couch in their room, and, finally, to a room of her own. It had been hard, but Tracy had regained herself more and more with each triumph. Please, Lord....please...He forced himself to look at her face and his heart sank. She wore the frightened little girl face he remembered all too well.  
  
"Mom...Daddy..can I sleep with you guys?"  
  
Maggie, lulled back to sleep, was blissfully unaware of the exchange. Doc, however, fought down his conflicting emotions and rising panic. He was thrilled at the "Mom...Daddy" part. However, that it took a nightmare to bring the words out of her in a tone that wasn't sarcastic or teasing...he felt like he'd swallowed fire, and it was burning a hole in him. He gently settled Maggie on her side of the bed, easing over to her side, patting the space between them. Oh shit, he thought as she padded like a five-year-old to the foot of the bed, crawling between them and snuggling as close as she could. I won't let you do this again, you bastard, he thought as he cuddled his girls. I won't let them take you from me. Maggie whimpered in his sleep and he felt his world go to hell.  
  
Little did he know that evil eyes were on him, and that his world was about to get a lot worse. *********************************************************************** Sorry again that this took so long folks, and bites as it's been so long. Also, though I'd intended this to be a short story, but with everything in my head right now, it looks more like either a REALLY long story, or perhaps even a novel-length fic. Right now I want it to start out slowly & build up to something really special, so please be patient with me, and R/R, PLEASE, and be kind to the sick woman! : D 


	5. The Beginnings Of A Plan

DIMENSIONS CHAPTER 5

Freddy watched the scene playing out before him with a rage that scared even him. It wasn't enough that the fucks were _alive_, but they were _happy_ as well! Married, adopting, in a nice house with a nice fucking view--It wasn't fair! After all the shit they put him through, how _dare_ they live the good life while he rotted here in hell? His rage grew even more as he pondered courses of action; fruitless since he was never going to get out of here. The door to the antechamber creaked open and Freddy reacted, expertly flicking his hand so his glove flew off, hitting the poor unfortunate in the chest.

"Well," a voice drawled, "isn't this...original. Trying to kill what's already dead." Freddy scowled and fixed his attention on the speaker. A baby-faced young man stood before him, dressed in--of all things--an expensively cut 3-piece suit. Diamond cuff links sparkled at his wrists and Freddy could've sworn that his watch was Cartier--not that he knew about such things, of course. Let the little hellspawn faggot run around in his jewels and suits and scented panties; Freddy didn't give a shit. He _did_ wonder what the ponce wanted, though.

"What the fuck d'ya want?" Freddy's patience was wearing thin, especially since Baby Face merely stared at him, his own bladed glove quivering with the man's breath like some strange tuning fork. Baby Face glanced down with an amused smirk, plucked the glove from his chest, tsk'd at the damage to his suit, and tossed the glove back to Freddy.

"Interesting," Baby Face drawled slowly. "Normally Father's upper crust has a bit more manners. I assume you don't know who I am?" He stared at Freddy as if he should drop to his knees in abject worship; Freddy just rolled his eyes and turned away. He didn't have time for...he actually yelped in suprise as he flew through the air, slamming into a wall and sliding to the ground. He got up slowly, intent on ripping the fucker's spleen out through his nostrils, when a thought hit him: _Normally _Father's _upper crust_....realization hit and he smiled.

"Well well well," Freddy said, "It's Satan's little human bastard. Bout time you came to check on Daddy. He's slipping."

"I know, that's why I came to have a chat with you. And it's Damien, if you don't mind." Damien looked down at his suit again, passing a dismissive hand over his shirt. The tears vanished without a trace. He waved his hand again and a throne, velvet lined and comfortable, appeared. Damien took his time in seating himself, crossing his legs and flicking imaginary specks of..._whatever_..from his precious suit. He looked like a king preparing to receive petitions from his loyal subjects, and Freddy just rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

"Hey, maybe when you're done with your Puff Daddy bit, think ya'd like to tell me what we're supposed to _chat_ about?" Damien looked up from his preening, snapping a dark gaze to the Dream Deamon's face; Freddy wisely shut up. Not that he couldn't take the little fruit if it came to that, but Freddy was intruigued by Damien's interest, so he waited--for him, patiently--until the shit decided to finish playing The Emperor's New Groove long enough to get to the fucking point.

Damien just chuckled; he was clearly amused. "I don't have to tell you that you've created quite a stir around here in the three years since your arrival, do I?" He glanced at Freddy's face; Freddy made a point of studying his glove with a bored expression. Damien laughed. "Never mind then, I know you know you've shaken things up. Not that that's a bad thing; but Father _does_ like to keep enough order around here to remind everyone who's in charge. You've challenged that. Naturally, Father's not pleased. He wants rid of you, you know, so you won't be a threat to his rule. The problem, however, is what to do with you. The only place to go is up, however, that's usually a reward, not a punishment."

He paused, and Freddy looked up from his glove. "So?

"In a nutshell, if you're allowed to remain here, you can possibly wrest my Father's kingdom from him; if we were to send you back up, your special.._talents_...would prevent any new souls from coming in. It wasn't a problem when you were sticking to little kids; they weren't corrupted yet, their souls couldn't enter. But you've moved up to teenagers, with all their drinking and smoking and sex. A corrupted child's soul is special, it gives Father more power. And you've been taking that power from him. So the question is, what to do with you?"

Freddy looked at Damien a long time, then he shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. All I know is I want to go home, where I belong. My children..."

"Oh yes, your precious _children_, your Elm Street brats. Theme killing, how deliciously original." Damien sneered and Freddy took a step forward, murder in his eyes. Damien raised a languid hand and Freddy stepped back. "Good boy," he said, the sneer growing. "Now, if you're ready to listen to what I have to say..."

"I've _been_ listening to you, y'wanna get to the fuckin' _point_?" Freddy's patience had reached breaking point; this only seemed to amuse Damien more. He rose lazily from his chair and walked over to one of the scrying pools, touching it lightly. "Now, if you're ready to listen to what I have to say," he said again, as if Freddy hadn't spoken. "I have a proposition for you. One that could benefit us all."

"I figured. What's the 'you' in 'us all' have to do with me?" Freddy glared at him suspiciously; Damien merely smiled.

"I want to rule Hell, you obviously have no interest in our little kingdom, though there are those who would follow you in a heartbeat if you so chose." Damien looked closely at Freddy, Freddy shrugged again. "I thought as much. So here's the deal: I send you back to finish your work. I've already spoken with the Dream Daemons and they've agreed to help you again. Only they won't give you the souls of any adults you kill. Those are to be mine. " He'd have gone on, but Freddy interrupted him.

"Why the fuck would I wanna kill any adults? That's not my bag and you know it." Something was up and he wanted to know what it was. "Is this some kind of test? Or trap? I'm warning you..." He took another step forward, then abruptly found himself face-down in some sort of liquid. It made the fire that had taken his life seem like ice cream in comparison. Freddy couldn't help himself, he screamed, inhaling the liquid fire and struggling to spit it out. He was yanked out mercifully and flung to the ground, where he lay, gasping reflexively for uneeded breath. He glared up at Damien, who was calmly still standing next to the scrying pool, smirking.

"Ready to continue this conversation, or would you like to go for another swim?" Freddy remained silent. "I thought so. Now come here." Without waiting for Freddy to move, Damien touched the pool he was next to. Freddy climbed to his feet and slowly stalked over to the devil's side, looking down into the pool. The sight that met his eyes made him growl with hatred. There was _his_ Springwood, happy couples, young and old, strolling the streets, laughing and talking animatedly. The scene changed and there was Katherine, his Katherine, snuggled next to that damn "doctor" and their brat. No longer a teen, but Freddy would enjoy making an exception of killing her. The little whore was gonna pay, and as far as that fat, black bastard went....oh the fun he was going to have!

While he watched the cozy little scene, Damien had walked to another pool, touching its surface and beckoning Freddy over. They looked into the pool and there was his grandpa self again, preparing for bed along with that whore Loretta. They looked happy as they chatted about the events of the day. Damien walked over to a third pool; there was his daughter's bitch alternate, arguing with a handsome young man. Freddy's interest peaked for a moment, she looked truly miserable. Then man said something with a disgusted look, then stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Kathy burst into tears, flinging herself onto the couch for a long moment, then picking up the phone and dialing a number. As she talked, Damien smiled. Freddy looked at him, puzzled.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Shhh, just watch. Did you know that we can sometimes influence events from down here?" Freddy shook his head, still puzzled. Damien's smile grew wider as he walked back to the first pool, waving his hand over it. Freddy's puzzlement only grew as Tracy sleepily got up and stumbled to her own room. Damien went back to the second pool and waved his hand again; Fred took his wife into his arms and murmered something into her ear. She giggled girlishly and turned the light off. Damien repeated the process with the third pool. Kathy spoke more urgently into the phone, then hung up and went upstairs to her room, stripping her clothing as she went. Damien's smile near took in the tips of his ears; Freddy just shook his head.

"I knew you were a perverted bastard, but is now the time for Hell's Horniest Videos? And what the hell's this got to do with sending me back up?" Damien grinned broadly.

"Just watch, my doubtful friend, and I'll explain. Everything has a purpose here in Hell...." Damien put a mock friendly arm around Freddy's shoulders, glancing back into the pools. Freddy let his curiosity overcome his anger and allowed the touch. Together they watched events unfold....


	6. A Love Letter From Hell, Pt1

Maggie stirred restlessly in her sleep as Tracy uncurled herself from the tangle of bodies on the bed, mumbling a sleepy "Good night" as she staggered to her room. Maggie mumbled back in response, missing the warmth that had been Tracy against her back. She scooted back, murmuring in protest, until her movements were blocked by what seemed like a wall of warmth, solid yet soft at the same time. She wiggled to get more comfortable and a groan reached her ears; part of her mind registered that part of that wall had just gotten a lot harder. She came fully to, blinking in confusion as she rolled over and met Doc's heated gaze as he gazed intently down at her. "Doc?" she stammered in confusion. "Alan?" His continued lack of response unnerved her, and her confusion only grew as he reached over and picked up her left hand and kissed her wedding rings. Maggie thought perhaps he was feeling meloncholy; Lord knew she and Tracy had given him enough reason to feel that way, especially lately. Her opinion changed as he brought her fingers to his lips, kissing her fingers reverently, then the rings. The touch of his lips and the look in his eyes made her feel..._something_...she swallowed hard and looked away.

"Are you my wife?" The question startled her; she snapped her gaze back to his face. "Wha..what?" Her nervousness only increased; perhaps she was back in a crazy dream. She shivered, an action that wasn't lost on Doc as his intent gaze remained riveted on her face. "Of...of _course_ I'm your wife, Alan. We're married, after all."

"No." Just that one word, softly spoken. Alan still hadn't released her hand, and now he turned it over and brushed a gentle kiss across her palm. It burned like fire all the way up her arm and settled into the pit of her stomach. She had to concentrate to understand his next words. "We're married, yes. For a year now we've worn matching rings, and you've carried my last name. For the past three years we've lived together, laughed and cried and survived together. We've watched Tracy grow into an amazing young woman, and we've done what we had to do to make it. But in these years we haven't truly _lived_. I can't take this anymore, Maggie. I love you. I've loved you from the moment you emerged from that last battle with Krueger." he watched sympathetically as she shuddered, then kissed her palm again before continuing. "For the past three years I've loved you and I've ached for you as I've watched you struggle to overcome all we've been through. I've done all I could for you, Maggie, you and Tracy, but I can't do any more unless you both allow me to."

He would've gone on then, but Maggie cut in. "Doc, you know damn well you've been an important part of our lives, of _my_ life. I don't know what we would've done without you here." She watched as he stubbornly shook his head. "No, don't deny your role in our survival. You've been wonderful, but you don't have to continue like this. I know you've been wanting to get on with your life, but Tracy and I have been holding you back. It's okay. We know we've been selfish, and that you need love. You don't have to pretend to love me. You've been a wonderful friend and we'll stay friends, if you'd like. We know you need to move on."

Her heart was breaking even as she spoke the words. She knew they were coming out calmly, she just didn't know _how_ when her entire soul was screaming and crying and dying inside. _He wanted to leave them._ She knew it would come someday, that he would want to live free again as a man unencombered by the strain they'd all been through, she just didn't think it would be _now_. She could still hear her words coming out, logically and calm, even though the little girl in her screamed for her to not break up her family. Even as the woman inside cried out the love she could never reveal to him, lest she trap him, guilt him into staying with her longer for her sake. Even as she watched his already dark eyes go black and his face blanch with each word that fell from her lips.

Doc's whole world was crashing down on him. He saw her lips moving, but all he heard was _pretend to love_, _friend_, and _move on_. She didn't love him. He knew that, he'd always known that, but he was hoping that once he'd spoken what was in his heart, she might perhaps return even just a hint of that love. But no, for whatever reason, Freddy or no, she kept her heart closed from him. He was just her crutch. A normal man would've finally realized it and, indeed, moved on. But he wasn't a normal man. He was HER man, and he would continue to be her crutch as long as she wanted or needed him. Except she didn't want or need him anymore. A normal man would've gotten up, packed his few meager belongings, and hit a hotel for the night to ponder his next move. He merely listened to her words, trying to see through them, to ponder _his_ next move. With her.

If she'd let him.

She was still talking, babbling about how they'd still share custody of Tracy, it shouldn't be a problem since she was over 18 now anyway. About how she didn't want any of the things he worked so hard to provide for him, that he should be free to give those to a woman he truly loved, who deserved them. About how she'd take back her maiden name so that he wouldn't be forced to remember the mistake he made. And as he listened to her inane babble, two things became clear to him. One was that she had _no_ clue how he truly felt for her. She thought she was doing him a favor! He could've laughed in relief. The second point that became clear to him was that he had to do something, and fast, or he truly would lose her forever. Because it was becoming more and more obvious to him, as she talked, that she truly cared for him, as well. Perhaps she didn't love him, not the way he loved her, but with time, with time....he wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. What he did took them both by suprise. He lunged across the of the bed, seemingly guided by some unseen force, and took her into his arms. There was a moment to hear her squeak of suprise before his lips came down hard on hers. Another moment--shocked, unprotesting suprise--where she didn't react at all, and he sent another prayer out, this one to Whomever had guided his actions. _Please, please..let her respond favorably. Let her feel what I'm feeling now, please...._He was just about to give up, to gently push her away, stammering apologies while he packed his things, when he felt it. The tiniest twitch of her lips, then they opened under his, and her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him to her with almost bruising force. If she'd let him up for air, he'd sing.

Maggie was flying. _He loved her. he _loved _her. He loved _HER! It wasn't an act of charity, a way to keep the Survivor's Club together. He felt everything she felt. None of her dreams ever could've been so perfect. _That's an odd thought to have now._ The thought made her shiver; perhaps this _was_ a dream, after all, one inspired by her father to wear down her defenses so he could get to her. Maybe...she whimpered as the arms around her suddenly tightened almost painfully. Panicked, she started to struggle. The arms never let her go, just gentled the embrace, the lips touching hers gentled as well. _He's _NOT_ your father_, her heart screamed, and it felt right to her. She pulled him to her with an urgancy that almost scared her, seemingly guided by some unseen force. She opened her mouth to him, inviting him; he wasn't allowing her up for air, let alone words, so she would pour her heart and everything she wanted to say to him into that first kiss.

A short time later--moments, or an eternity, neither knew which--they broke apart, gasping for air and looking at each other through new eyes. Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came from her kiss-bruised lips. She shook her head helplessly, trying to articulate her feelings, but couldn't make sense of anything. She held out her hands beseechingly, and Doc took them, pressing her fingertips. "I know, it's hard to put into words, so I'll make it simple for you. I ask again, Maggie--are you my wife?"

In response, she rose from the bed; his eyes followed her worriedly. She smiled gently, then stripped the cotton nightie she'd taken to wearing from her body. "I hope this answers your question," she teased, finally finding her voice under the returned heat of his gaze. "And now I'll ask you: Are you my husband?" She was amazed she could tease, but she knew she'd done the right thing when he opened his arms to her, then proceeded to answer her question with kisses and touches, and so much more. All night. And when sleep finally claimed them as the sun started its climb into the sky, there were no dreams for either of them.

Tracy bounded into her "parent's" room cheerfully that morning, having been guided as if by an unseen force late the night before back to her room. She'd fallen asleep before she could ponder it, but the night was blessedly free of any other nightmares. She bounced into the room, the sunny "Good morning!" dying on her lips as she entered to see a sight she thrilled to--and hoped to God she'd never see again. Her "parents", naked, curled around each other protectively, but with love. "Bout damn time," she murmered as she sneaked downstairs to call them both in sick, thinking to do her beloved "parents" a favor. She whistled happily as she prepared for school, thoughtfully making them a cold lunch they could enjoy later, never even feeling the evil eyes that watched in delight.


	7. A Love Letter From Hell Pt 2

Fred Kreuger watched his wife Loretta prepare for bed. Her body was still lovely even after all these years; Loretta kept in great shape, not only with her catering business, but with jogging, yoga, and swimming. He marvled at her, and more that she could continue to be with him for so long, as he doddered and welcomed old age with relish. Especially since she could run circles around people half their ages, with room to spare.

She bent down to remove the stockings she'd worn under the dress she'd worn to the party she'd catered this evening. The sight never failed to fascinate him. Loretta had never liked pantyhose, calling the contraptions "bondage gear". He grinned more as he thought that odd, considering she'd _loved_ the few bondage games they'd played over the years. In fact....he shook himself mentally as his body stirred, it was like some unseen force had guided him to response. Though still passionate, Loretta's sex drive had taken a bit of a nosedive since she'd gone through menopause five years ago. That had been a nightmarish time, as his normally effervescant wife went through hot flashes and mood swings that would make Satan himself cringe in fear. Thankfully, time, understanding...and a very helpful doctor, had helped them through the trying times and Loretta was better than ever for it, though their sex life _had_ gone into a bit of a decline. Not that he wasn't happy with what they still had; he'd just learned to temper his needs until they rarely bothered him--or her--anymore. But still, there were nights like tonight....

Loretta was excitedly detailing her evening when something stopped her. She turned to see her beloved husband giving her "that" look. Normally she'd respond with affectionate annoyance, charmed by his antics, but not enough for bedtime play. Tonight, however...she felt his gaze sweep down her body, touching fire to each part they touched. She shivered as lust swept suddenly over her, and she stalked over to the bed, clad still in her stockings, as if some unseen force had guided her steps. She struck a pose by the bed, tapping her lips thoughtfully as she spoke. "Now now, you old goat, what_ever_ could you have on your mind?" She paused to run manicured nails up her thighs, playfully framing herself. She figured, even at her age, a trim down there every now and then had its advantages. Tonight seemed like one of those advantageous nights, if the way his eyes lit up was any indication.

"Why don't you come to bed and I'll tell you all about it?" He loved when she teased him, even on the nights he knew he wasn't going to get any. Tonight seemed like a night he actually would, and he vowed to take full advantage of it.

"Talk, eh? Well, if that's all you're gonna do, talk, then perhaps I should go back to see Mark Johnson's boy. I _did_ tell you it was his 27th birthday party I catered, right? And such a fine young stallion he's grown up to be!" She made as if to turn around and head to the door; with a mock roar Fred leaped from the bed and scooped Loretta up into his arms. "Stallion?!? That young pup wouldn't know what to do if he fell in with a map and directions! Age has its advantages, you know." He threw her onto the bed; Loretta squealed happily. _I _love_ when he gets like this_, Loretta thought as Fred reached for the light.

"Fred darling?"

"Yes, my beloved?"

"Leave the light...on...."

_Leave the light on, indeed_ an amused voice replied as evil eyes watched them.


	8. A Love Letter From Hell Ch63a

Katherine dabbed a bit of concealer under her eyes to hide the puffiness. The redness she could do nothing about so far. She relived the conversations that had just taken place, starting with the fight with Dale.

He'd come in with such high expectations for what he considered a romantic evening. Dinner followed by cuddling on the couch, watching Court TV and debating the psychological merits of each case. Normally that would've been fine with her, but since her visit to her parents' house she'd been feeling...restless. She hadn't been able to put her finger on why until he'd shown up at her door tonight, wearing the same white shirt and tan slacks he always wore for their "quality time" together, holding out the same red rose and cradling the same bottle of merlot. Something in her had just snapped.

Looking back, she realized that her feelings for Dale didn't run that deeply. That hurt her, but not as much as she'd thought it would. Analyzing herself, she realized that during the course of their 7-year courtship she'd never even once made a move to introduce him to her parents, despite his hinting, and, finally, insistance. As far as her family knew, she wasn't even dating. She'd told herself that it was because she didn't want her zany family in her business, asking Dale all sorts of questions, speculating on when they'd get married and have kids of their own. Deep inside, though, she knew it was because she was afraid of the look she knew she'd see on her father's face. Daddy was sensitive to her moods, he knew her better than anyone. And he knew the vibrant, loving Kathy she hid each day behind the Doctor Kreuger mask. The safety, the refuge she took in her work. Dale was one of those safefalls, she knew. And her Daddy would know the moment he laid eyes on Dale.

Which was why she was taken so by suprise when Dale swept in, planting a massive kiss to her lips. He wasn't demonstrative by nature; he seldom even held her hand, not even in private, most especially not in public. His kisses were perfunctual, almost like he was bestowing an expected favor. To see this side of him suprised her, happily, she had to admit, even as it disturbed her somewhat. She couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her, but he hadn't given her time to think. He'd tucked the rose behind her ear, raced excitedly to the kitchen to put away the wine, then came back to the living room, taking her hands in his.

"We need to talk," he'd announced, while she was still trying to form words. He'd led her to the couch, setting her down, then sitting beside her. "I've got great news!"

Kathy looked at him and finally found her voice. "What is it Dale?" She'd never seen him so animated; she wondered what was up. His face lit up as he regarded her. "I've been thinking about this, I've given it a lot of thought, in fact. And I've decided that we should be together. Married. You and I."

He smiled triumphantly at her; Kathy was stunned speechless. _I've been thinking...we should be together...married._ She blinked, this had hit her like a ton of bricks. She focused on slowing her breathing and his words. He was, in fact, still talking..as he got down on one knee. Kathy started to panic even as he pulled the velvet lined box from his pocket, opening it.

"Will you marry me, Katherine?" His eyes bore into hers, seeking. Katherine was reeling. _He's never once called me Kathy. Katherine, or Doctor Krueger, but never _Kathy_. Funny what you think of at times like these._ "Well?" His voice had taken on an annoyed timbre; his face was coloring slightly. So she retreated behind Doctor Kreuger, listing the definate pros of such a union. Their combined income would be staggering. They both had job security. They had a lot of common interests. Her friends liked him, the few she had. She was sure, in time, her family would come to love him too. Whether _she_ loved him or not never entered the picture. She just nodded numbly, and the excited light came back into his eyes. He whooped for joy and slipped the ring on her finger. She dumbly noted that it was a simple ring, plain gold band with a tiny, sensible, square-cut dimaond resting in the center. He babbled on and on and finally her numbed senses caught up with what he was saying.

Dale babbled on about the wedding, how they had to be sensible about things. How once _she_ moved out of _her_ house into his they could get started on building their lives. How she would have to get rid of those _tacky_ bric-a-brac collections her mother insisted she keep, how it would clash with his things. How she'd have to sell her car; of _course_ he had the _perfect_ one already picked out for her. His mother had already picked out what dress she would wear, and of course they couldn't honeymoon right away because of their work, but they'd find a nice little bed-and-breakfast in a year or two, his mother knew just the place. And as he continued to rant, she gathered a few thoughts. _He chose everything. Where they went to eat, what movies they saw, he even ordered for her at the restaurant_. What she had originally thought of as confident masculinity she was now seeing as obsessed perfectionalism. And all in the space of a few minutes. Dale leaned in again, catching her lips in another kiss. Kathy was stunned by the action yet again and whimpered in confusion; Dale mistook it for something else, because he suddenly grabbed her, mashing his lips to hers forcefully. Kathy struggled to breathe, Dale mistook her intentions again and rose, sweeping her into his arms. His face was flushed, his eyes had a gleam she didn't much care for. She struggled, finally finding her voice. "Dale, Put. Me. _Down_!"

He released her, more from surpise than anything else. "What's wrong baby?" He trailed his hand down her cheek; she felt mildly repulsed. "I...I don't want to do this," she stammered. He stared at her indulgently.

"But why not? After all, we're engaged now! Ah, I understand.." he smiled at her as if she was a slightly retarded child. "You've never been with a man before, and it's okay. It's just what I expected of a woman like you. But we'll need the practice of course, if we're ever going to have kids of our own."

_Never been with a man before...woman like you...KIDS?!? Hold the _FUCK_ up!!_ Kathy backed up a few steps, glaring at the pig. "Now wait just a minute! Who said anything about kids? And what do you mean, a woman like me?" She was panting with her anger now, and the fact that he was still smiling that hated, indulgent smile made her blood boil even more.

"Of _course_ you want kids, Kathy, all women do, don't they? I mean, did you really expect to do that horrid show all your life? I'll let you work until you're pregnant, of course, but after that...no woman of mine should be expected to work when I'm making enough to support my family." He thumped his scrawny chest at "my" like he was some jungle man. Kathy lost it.

"What the FUCK do you mean I'll ALLOW YOU TO WORK?!? This isn't the '50's, you ass! I don't _want_ kids. I don't _want_ to give up my job, or my show, and right now I sure as hell don't _want_ to be married to you!!" She struggled with the ring as Dale just looked at her, perplexed.

"What are you talking about Katherine? Now you're just being silly..c'mon upstairs and we can..talk..about things.." He gave her a heavy lidded smile. She finally managed to tear the ring from her finger and threw it in his face.

"Get out, you bastard," she snarled at him as the ring bounced off his chin and clattered to the floor. She spun around, preparing to storm upstairs when his voice, quiet with rage, stopped her.

"Katherine Krueger, you march your ass back down those stairs and _pick this ring up now_. Then you're going to put it back on your finger and apologize to me. Then, if I decide to accept your apology, we'll go upstairs and I'll teach you how to make it up to me." His voice was so quiet, yet it literally reeked with chauvanistic rage. Katherine didn't know whether to be outraged or afraid. Outrage won out as his words penetrated. She spun around, knowing her next words were the wrong ones before they even left her mouth, but he'd pushed her too far.

"I'm not even a virgin, you twisted, chauvanistic, pathetic pig," she said, her voice matching his in quiet intensity. Things seemed to go into slow motion at that point. Katherine watched as his eyes grew wide; his face turned so white, so suddenly that for a moment she was worried for him. Then his hand lifted and time sped up again as it caught her solidly across the face, in a backhand that sent her reeling, sprawled out at the base of the stairs. Then he was standing over her, shouting, a handful of her hair in his hand, hitting her over and over. Kathy was stunned. She'd never been hit like that before; her father had spanked her once when she was 6, then was so guilty he'd cried most of the afternoon, then spent the rest of the day drowning her in ice cream and gifts. She didn't have time for the memory though. Dale wasn't finished with her.

"You cockteasing _whore_. All this fucking time I was gentle with you, waiting for the right time to make love to you when I could've had you any time I wanted. How many men have you fucked before me huh? How many times have you made a fool of me?" Kathy couldn't reply even if she'd wanted to, as Dale hit her again, the pulled her to her feet by the handful of hair. She screamed, striking out at him. Her reward for that was another savage backhand as he started to drag her up her stairs, still yelling, shouting obscenities, and her brain tried to make sense of the sudden change in him. It made no sense...and to think she had actually considered tying herself to this man....she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, but she knew for sure she couldn't let him do what he planned to do, to take her upstairs, to let him force himself on her this way. Acting on reflex, she punched out, catching him in the throat. He went down, gasping for air, but she went with him as his hand was still clenched in her hair. The hit the ground hard, but Kathy was already struggling to her feet, screeching in pain as his grip on her hair tightened. She lashed out with her foot, catching him in the groin. He let go of her this time, and she raced into the kitchen, working on impulse. She heard him get to his feet to give chase and she grabbed the first thing she could and hurled it at him. The heavy vase she'd thrown caught him in the forehead and down he went again, but she didn't stop to make sure as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife. She could've sworn she'd heard a ghostly chuckle then, in her head, low and full of cruelty and glee at her plight, but she shook that off as she hefted the knife. Its feel in her hand felt _right_ somehow, as if she were supposed to be holding it, using it...she shook off that feeling too, and just in time, as Dale entered the kitchen after her, holding his bleeding head and roaring. He stopped short when he saw the knife, however.

"Katherine...Kathy...c'mon, let's be reasonable here. Put the knife down and let's talk." Kathy wasn't buying the gentle, placating tone. Dale took a step toward her and she swung wildly, slashing his shirt and cutting his chest. He howled and lunged at her; she swung again and he backed off. "You _bitch_. After all I've done for you," he snarled. "Get out," she breathed. "Whore," he responded. "Do you really think that anyone else wanted you? Do you really think you can do better? Everyone at work laughs at the Ice Princess; don't look so suprised. You know damn well what they say about you. I did you a fucking favor. I fucking _saved_ you from being old and alone and this is how you repay me you whore?" "Get _OUT_! Get out or I swear to God I'll kill you Dale get out getoutget_out_!!" Dale backed away, a strange smile on his face. "This isn't over, bitch. And don't even think about telling anyone what happened tonight. You know you'll lose this fight." He turned and walked from the kitchen, Kathy followed slowly to make sure he truly was leaving. She kept her eyes, and the knife, trained on him until the door slammed behind her, then she raced to the door, throwing all the locks, then dropping the knife and throwing herself on her couch, sobbing for what seemed like an eternity. Then she got up stiffly, groping blindly for the phone. Only one person could she ask for help. His face was the only face she could think of as she dialed the number.

"Alan? This..this is K.Kat...hy...Kreuger. Please come." She couldn't say anymore; she dropped the phone and wept.

And all the while, evil eyes watched her plight with glee.


	9. A Love Letter From Hell Ch63b

Alan Rogers was a happy man. Work was coming along wonderfully, and he was having the time of his life. Katherine Kreuger's therapy show was in full swing, and he'd finally offered a permenant position as one of the three psychologists on her panel to help each show's guests. It was busy work, to be sure, especially since that meant his own, private practice was taking on more clients as a result, but he couldn't be happier. He wasn't the first in his family to finish college, but he was the first to be successful at his chosen profession, the first not swamped in debt from following his dreams, and he was so proud that he was able to help his family. Life was perfect, but for one thing....

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he thought. His mother, God bless her, kept badgering him to get married and give her grandkids. She wasn't getting any younger, she kept reminding him, and neither was he. At 44 years of age, he supposed he wasn't, but he'd wanted to make sure he had his life together before bringing a wife and kids into the mix. He'd seen the way his parents had struggled, his mother as a cook, and his father as a studio musician, to provide for themselves and their four children. His twin brothers had been a suprise, loved by their parents of course, but a strain on the already meager finances. Alan and his siblings had tried extra hard, growing up, to try to take the burden from their parents. Alvin and Maria had married young, two high school dropouts, and kids had followed in short order. Though Alana and his siblings had tried to take on jobs at early ages to help with the cash flow, their parents had refused, insisting that all their children study hard, finish school, and go on to make something of their lives. There was nothing to be afraid of in hard, honest labor with your hands, his father had been fond of saying, but if you can use your mind to further yourself, take the advantage. His father had meant don't break your back and grow old before your time doing work you have to because you've got no other choice, when you can have so many other options. So Alvin and Maria had pushed, and their children had taken those words to heart, graduating at or near the top of their high school and college classes, and going on to follow their dreams. Shayla was in New York, following her dream in fashion. Donovan and Darius had gone into music like their father; only more successful. They'd been signed on to a major R&B label and their debut CD was due to drop in less than a month. Already though, their names were on everyone's lips and more than one teenaged girl was clamoring over the handsome duo. And as for Alan, he was happy tending to the minds of America. But lately he'd found his life lacking in one area.

And he knew what it was. He'd usually been too busy climbing the ladder of success; a Black man striving to reach the top, keep his nose clean, and make his family and community proud of him. He'd dated, of course, but the women his age were as dry as some of the cases he read over. The few younger women he'd dated made him feel like he was the find on an archeolgical dig. He'd despaired of ever finding a woman who had that perfect balance of mature sophistication and youthful fun. Then he'd met Kathy....

Katherine Krueger. He'd never forget the day he'd gotten the call, one of her people saying she was interesed in having him do a guest spot for her show. Of course he'd seen it, watched daily. He liked her style, the way she talked to people, never condensending or mean, never pretending to understand or grandstand for the sake of ratings. She truly got the people she worked with, young and old alike. She really cared, and wanted to help. She was gentle, yet firm, and never shied away from hard subjects or tried to sugarcoat or placate. And the few times they'd talked after one of his guest spots, he'd sensed that a wildcat lurked behind her professional exterior. He'd found himself enchanted.

Of course, his friends and family teased him about it. He didn't know when he'd started watching her every move, or putting her name into every sentence, but he did, and man, was it noticed. His brothers had started throwing Kobe Bryant jokes his way whenever he spoke to them on the phone, and his sister thought it was funny. His parents had never put an emphasis on race or age, firmly believing that true love was hard enough to find without further limiting yourself, but there were other members of his family who disagreed. And voiced their opinions. Stridently. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. Not that it mattered anyway, she was with that asshole Foster. _Doctor Dale Foster_, his mental voice added snottily, mimicking Dale's tone each time he announced himself. Alan hated the bastard, wondered why the hell a vibrant woman like Katherine would get involved with the scum in the first place, but it wasn't his right to judge. He and Kathy were just friends, though they'd gotten a lot closer in the months they'd been working together. He thought of her beautiful smile as they talked about a show over lunch, the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses when she got worked up over a case. He smiled to himself, then started as the phone rang, jarring him from his pleasant thoughts. He reached for the phone and his smile grew as he recognized the voice on the line. It faltered, however, when he heard her panicked voice.

"Alan? This..this is K.Kat...hy...Kreuger. Please come." The phone dropped; so did his heart. _Oh God_, he thought, _please let her be okay._ He raced into suitable street clothes, almost forgetting to lock the door in his haste, mind racing as he fired up his car and sped into the night. The trip seemed to take forever even though they lived less than ten minutes away from each other. He cursed each red light, each car on the road, each obstacle keeping him from his love. Was she okay? What had happened? He almost sobbed with relief as her house came into view; he damn near killed himself as he lept from the car before he'd even finished bringing it to a stop. He raced up her porch steps and banged at her door, alarm growing as nobody answered. He banged louder, calling out. "Kathy? It's me, Alan, I'm here! Kathy? Kat?? _Katherine_!!" He pounded the door as hard as he could; it rattled on its hinges nearly. A neighbor poked her head out of her window and he turned, yelling, "Do you know what's going on over here? Call the cops!" The neighbor hurriedly shook her head, almost beheading herself as she muttered something about not wanting trouble, the window crashed shut. _Stupid bitch_. He banged again and had just decided to kick the door in when it opened, revealing a woman he didn't recognize.

_Oh my God._ She was a mess, her face black and blue, lip split in at least two places, the whole puffy with swelling. And her eyes, wide and scared in her face as she stared at him like he was her savior. He noted she'd tried to add makeup to cover the mess, but it was tear-stained and wouldn't have done the job anyway. "Oh God, Kathy.." he said as he opened his arms. She fell into them, sobbing, and without thinking he picked her up and carried her back inside. He locked the door behind them, then carried her over to the couch. Alan tried to get up, telling her she needed a wet washcloth, perhaps something to drink. Anything to let him think and not shake her until she told him who he needed to go kill. That bastard Foster's face flashed across his mind and his rage increased until he thought his head would explode. Calm, Rogers, calm down until she's told her story. She could've been robbed. It could've been a disgruntled client. It could've been...he lost his train of thought as she clung to him, telling him not to leave her, she didn't need anything, just please stay and hold her. He complied, mind racing. "Kathy, we need to call the police."

"NO!" she cried, flinging her arms around him, tears flowing. "No police, please, it's okay, it's okay. I should've seen this coming. I should've known he would do this, it was my fault that I didn't see and he said not to say anything and it was my fault my fault myfaultmyfault.." She'd started rocking back and forth, looking like some of the rape victims he'd seen in his office. A fresh wave of anger and fear burst over him and he quickly scanned the rest of her body. She caught him looking and calmed a bit, shaking her head.

"No, he didn't...didn't..do...that. Though he tried. I stopped him Alan, but just barely. What am I going to do?" Her voice slid into a wail and his heart died. It was all he could do not to take her into his arms and hold her until the world went away. But first he had to find out exactly what had happened. Hating the professional manner he had to adopt, he faced her. "Katherine, I need to know exactly what went down. Please, calm down and tell me what happened."

She looked at him with a touch of anger, sniffing defiantly. "Don't psych me, Alan. I need a friend right now, not a shrink." As his face crumbled in shame, she softened. "I'm sorry, I really am. I'll tell you everything, but please, _please_ promise me you won't do anything about it. I need to fix this on my own. Please Alan? I just need a friend right now." He nodded, relenting, and she related her tale, from beginning to end, watching as his face darkened, his hands clenching into fists. For a moment she was afraid all over again and she shrunk back into the couch, until she realized that his anger wasn't directed at her. He was looking at her, not with pity or sympathy, but as if he'd experienced her ordeal himself, and she felt her heart expand. Dear, dear Alan! What a wonderful friend. She touched his hand, offering comfort.

He started at her touch. _Just like my Katherine_, he thought, _to be offering comfort when she's the one who needs it most right now._ He was going to kill that son of a bitch, if it was the last thing he did. But how, when he'd promised Kathy he wouldn't do anything? He looked at her bleakly, catching her hand in his. "What do we do now?" he questioned.

"Just hold me Alan, that's all for now. Just hold me." She replied, and he did, taking her into his arms. He held her as if she were a fragile, cherished heirloom, and she felt that way, wrapped in the strength of his arms. She snuggled into his chest, thinking _My Alan. How many times have you been here for me these past months?_ She blinked. "My" Alan? _When did _that _happen_?? She shrugged mentally; it felt right. All the talks, the lunches, the occasional dinner that Dale had disapprovingly laughed off. All the talks after a taping, the phone calls. They'd unknowingly slipped into a more personal relationship during this time, discovering how much they had in common, their likes and dislikes, the insanity of having close-knit, loving families. _His arms feel so _right _around me. Sweet heavens, I think I'm in love with this man!_ The thought hit her like a blow--it was too much to take in in one night. But she had to act on it; it was like an unseen force was guiding her hands, her movements. She looked up into his face, his dear, sweet face, and caught the emotion he thought he'd been so careful to hide from her. _He loves me too_, she thought in wonderment as her hands seemed to take on a mind of their own. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

Alan's first reaction was suprise. She'd never given him the slightest hint that she'd wanted anything more from him than simple friendship. His second reaction was purely that of a man in love. He crushed her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as he deepened the kiss. _She wants me_, he thought, and gave in to his desire; it was like an unseen force guided his reactions. She was so warm and alive in his arms! The way she strained against him, matching him kiss for kiss, tongue dancing with his as though they were created for that sole purpose. He couldn't think, pure need made him trail his hands down her back back to cup the sweet swell of her behind. She stiffened and moaned, arching against him, and that broke the spell for him. He couldn't know that her reaction was one of a need that matched his own; he only knew that she'd been through an ordeal tonight, a terrible one, and here he was, her supposed protector, forcing her to the same thing! And she was fighting him. He abruptly released her, so hard she almost stumbled, and took a long step back, fighting to control his breathing and need.

Kathy was in Heaven. Her head was swimming with the force of her newfound love for this man; already she had forgotten her trials with Dale earlier. All she knew was that she'd finally found her soulmate, under her nose all this time while she'd wasted time, taking refuge in what she had thought of as a safe bet. Alan's kisses, his hands on her brought her alive, made her body sing in a way she'd never experienced before, with any man she'd ever been with. Dale's chaste kisses had been swept from her memory, and she knew that had he tried anything more, sooner, she'd have been repulsed. Not with Alan, though. The feel of his body against hers made her forget her aches of the night, and made her ache in a new way. She wanted this man, and she wanted him to know it. She moaned into his mouth, ready to follow him into the Tenth Level of Hell if he asked her to, and needing to let him know. She was shocked when he almost violently pushed her away. She reeled, almost falling, feeling naked and vunerable as he let her go and stepped back.

"Alan?" she questioned. She felt expose and afraid again without his arms around her. Then ashamed as he looked away from her. _He doesn't want me, after all. He thinks I'm a victim blindly reaching for comfort wherever I can get it. Or worse, a whore. Dale's right, I'm a whore who would take advantage of a friend's support less than an hour after breaking up with my fiance. _She wrapped her arms around herself and burst into a fresh wave of tears.

"Katherine, don't....Kathy?" Alan could've cried himself. His angel looked even more wretched now and he felt like the lowest life form possible. He reached for her again and she stepped back, shaking her head violently as she cried, saying the worst things to him. That she was sorry. That she couldn't take advantage of a friend like that and she was sorry, she was a whore and she'd deserve it if he'd walk out now and never speak to him again. He couldn't speak, he was floored. How could she think those things about herself? _Damn you Foster. _He couldn't think of words, so he took her in his arms again, despite her protests, murmering comforting words to soothe her as she cried and tried to free herself, apologizing, asking him to leave, begging him to stay.

Finally, she stopped crying. _To hell with it_, she thought, and voiced what was in her heart. "Alan, I'm sorry, but I have to say this." He shook his head, opened his mouth to speak but she covered his mouth with her hand. "Please, hear me out. I..I think I love you. No, don't shake your head, I know what I'm saying. I've known it for a long time now but I couldn't say anything. You'd never indicated you'd wanted to be anything other than friends, then...then, there was Dale. I know now what a bastard he was, and I'm sorry it took so long, that it took _this_ to make me see that. I need you Alan. I need you in my life."

"You don't know what you're saying," Alan responded. "Katherine, you've been hurt tonight and you're looking for something to cling to. Lord knows I want to be the one you cling to, but I can't take advantage of you like this. I love you. I've loved you from the moment I met you, but I can't do this. Take some time, Katherine, to get your head together and decide what you want to do. I'll be here, but I'm not what you need now. Not like this."

His mouth kept moving, but she'd only heard one thing. _I love you. I've loved you from the moment I met you_. He loved her! She had to do something, and fast, as he looked like he was going to go into Mother Hen mode, make her shower, then tuck her into bed with some chicken soup or something. Her mind was made up. He could tuck her into bed if he wanted to, but there was no way in Hell she'd go without him at her side. She rushed forward again, rising to her tiptoes and cut his words off with her kiss. Gone was the frightened need of moments ago. The need was still there, yes, but not the fear. This was right, she knew it as surely as she knew her own name or what she wanted her life's work to be. He pushed her away again, preparing to say something, but she stopped him.

"Enough, Alan. No more words tonight. I'm a grown woman and I know what I want. It's you. I know what I've been through tonight, and trust me, you're _not_ a comfort zone or a security blanket for me. _I need you tonight._ I need you to make love to me. I need you to help me erase Dale from my mind. You can leave if you want to, but I'll be damned if I let you leave without me." She wore that look of determination that he'd grown to love; she reached for his hand again and he knew he was one plea away from caving. He tried to protest one last time, but she was ready for him, kissing his lips again and pressing his hand urgently to her breast. She whispered "No more words" against his mouth and he was hers.

He picked her up and carried her up the stairs, to the room she'd pointed out. And spent the night erasing Dale from her memory.

And neither felt the eyes that watched them, nor heard the triumphant laughter.


	10. And Baby Makes

Freddy thought back to the night Damien had forced Porn Night for his benefit. _Watch_, he'd replied to Freddy's questions. _Watch, and learn. Everything has a purpose here in Hell._ So Freddy, and Damien, had watched, daily, Damien with increasing glee. Freddy with increasing boredom, impatience, and anger. Life had gone fucking _wonderful_ for all the bastards; Everyone was in high spirits, frolicking and laughing and getting on with their lives. Not even one of them had had nightmares, not even the alternate version of his bitch daughter. For some reason, however, Damien had been delighted with the progression of things, and daily reminded Freddy that he needed to watch, and wait, and that this wasn't some torture he'd devised for Freddy. So the former Dream Daemon watched, and waited. He didn't have very long.

_**Springwood, three months later**_

"What do you mean, I'm pregnant?" Maggie's voice rang out in the doctor's office. She and Doc had been careful to use protection, always. _Except for that first night,_ a voice in her mind whispered. That first, beautiful, amazing, cathartic night that had truly made them Husband and Wife. Maggie shivered deliciously; just the thought of that first night never failed to send a bolt of longing through her. She forced her attention back to the present, as the doctor was still grinning at her, grinning and talking, about vitimans and rest and exercise, all the normal things a pregnant woman should do. _A baby_, she thought in wonderment. She'd eventually have to quit her job; the doctor was warning against stressful situations, and although Springwood wasn't the Springwood of old, her job was still a stressful one. How were they going to make it on one salary? How was Alan going to take the news? She thought back the past three months, the way Alan would smile happily whenever Tracy called him "Daddy," albeit jokingly, the pride in his voice when he'd introduce her as "My daughter" to strangers, father's pride in his face even as people gave covertly puzzled looks at them, Tracy's milky white skin, then his own dark brown visage; the way he lovingly ran hands and lips and tonuge over her stomach after they'd made love each night, as if he could already picture the seed of their love planted there. A goofy smile crossed her face--he'd be thrilled, and insist they'd manage. _We're going to have a baby!!!_

_**Springwood, three months later**_

"What do you mean, I'm pregnant?" Katherine's voice was almost a shriek in the doctor's office. The doctor started to smile at her, then frowned, taking in her shocked look, the sudden whiteness of her face. "Could I have a moment alone to think, please?" The doctor nodded in sympathy and left her alone. Katherine's mind was racing with shock and fear. "How could I be _pregnant_?" She knew that her doctor thought she didn't want to be pregnant at all. Nothing could be further from the truth. She might now want kids now, but in the furture, of course! Especially since she'd found her soulmate. Al, as she'd taken to calling him, was everything she could have ever dreamed of. Her friends loved him, her family adored him, and she..well, he could do no wrong as far as Kathy was concerned. Thinking of him brought her back to her fear, and she burst out laughing, calling herself an idiot. At her doctor's first words, she'd automatically flashed back to Dale, now a distant memory in her mind. Al had taken care of everything; at her insistance, he'd stuck to her cover story, calling the cops and saying she'd come home and suprised a mugger, who'd then beaten her and fled. Her parents he, himself, had told the truth to, promising that that bastard would never bother Kathy again. She'd never know exactly what Al had done, since he refused to speak of it, and Dale...well, Dale refused to speak to anyone at all, though he'd sent murderous glares her way until a friendly camera guy had informed Alan about it. Dale hadn't looked at anyone much after that, sticking to himself for the month it had taken him to get an out-of-state transfer.

In her mind, for some reason when the doctor had told her the test results, she'd instantly became afraid, wondering what she'd do if it were Dale's. She didn't believe in abortion, and she knew that Alan would raise the baby as his own, he'd never punish the child for the sins of its father. Her laughter was borne of the relief that she'd remembered that she and Dale had never had sex. The night he'd tried to...but she'd driven him off, then Alan, her sweet, handsome Knight, had come to her. They'd stayed in that week, Alan taking care of everything, while her bruises healed and her mind healed and they'd laughed and loved and critiqued the Best Of shows the network had hastily thrown together in her absence. She'd fallen more and more in love with him with every movement he'd taken, every word he'd spoken, and every time he'd taken charge of a situation, it had felt right to her. He didn't do it out of some convoluted notion of a man or woman's "place", but out of care and concern for her and her well-being. She wondered how he was going to take the news, then remembered one talk they'd had not long after getting together. They'd just made love, and were laying sprawled across her bed, his head reasting on her stomach. He'd kissed her bare skin, then remarked that he'd always wanted kids, how his parents had always raised him and his siblings with love and devotion, despite their hardscrabble beginnings. And how he'd do his best to give any children he had everything he could with both his love and his time, as well as his bank account. She smiled and touched her stomach, wonderingly. _This feels so right. He's going to be thrilled. We're going to have a baby!!!_

_**Across town, the same day**_

"What the HELL do you mean, I'm pregnant?!?" Loretta Krueger yelled at the top of her lungs in the doctor's office. She was 63, she'd come to menopause a bit late in life, true, but she'd _still_ gone through the Change. So what the hell was her doctor trying to tell her? This wasn't funny, not at all, not one bit. She'd been looking forward to "old age", though she'd felt it as keenly as Fred had, all their children growing up and leaving the house. Yes, she missed them, and she lived for the moments her older son brought his kids over for visits or babysitting. But she had her job, and she had Fred, and she had been planning on retiring at the end of the year, passing on the business to their younger son when he graduated from culinary school and came home. She'd planned on doing the things retired couples do: Plodding in the garden with her husband, travelling, taking cruises, hell, playing bingo even! And she'd even talked with her doctor about taking hormone pills to try to get some of her sex drive back. She'd totally enjoyed her romp with Fred three months earlier, and figured they could get back to having an active sex life again, like they used to. And as much as she adored her grandbabies, she was never cut out to be the "traditional" rocking chair grandmother. And now this. How could it be? What were her kids going to say? What her friends going to say? Hell, what would _Fred_ say?? _Holy shit, we're having a baby!!!_

Damien watched the unfolding scenes as pridefully as if he'd fathered the babies himself. _And he very well might have, goofy bastard_, Freddy thought. He winced slightly as Damien's head snapped around and that dark, scowling gaze was leveled his way, as though Satan's son had read his mind. Freddy clicked the blades on his glove defiantly and sent his own glare back to the man.

"As...fun..as this has been, what's with the sudden Paternal Instinct? I'm happy to have more kids to kill, but you didn't need to plant any homegrown bastards on my account" He grinned, then scowled again as Damien rolled his eyes, looking upward as if praying for patience.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Damien replied. Freddy shrugged, he _didn't_ get it, but damned if he'd tell the queen that. He was getting sick of Damien's holier-than-thou attitude, tired of getting his face rubbed into every little detail of what he didn't have. The bastard better come up with something, fast, or Daddy wasn't going to be the only one having problems down here. Freddy's patience had come to an end.

"Of course you don't get it. No wonder you died so many damn times." Freddy stepped forward with a snarl, to be stopped by the damnable upraised hand. "Please, not again. It's tiresome that you haven't yet learned that fisticuffs isn't my cup of tea. Watch." He passed his hand over all three pools; the air above them shimmered with a pure white light. Freddy wasn't impressed.

"Yeah, so? Great light show. What's that got to do with me?" Damien rolled his eyes once more. "I told you before a child's soul, his energy, is pure; untainted. It's magical." He ran his hand over the pools again, the light leaped and sparkled as if with a life of its own. Freddy _still_ didn't get it; that much was obvious by his posture and the disgusted way he watched Damien play with the sparkles of light. Damien sighed yet again. "Alright then, since you've shown me yet again that I need to spell things out to you. Pure innocence, pure _dreaming_ innocence. I'd thought you'd have gotten it by now, as you once came back through the dreams of an unborn child. And now you've got the combined power of three. Freddy, my dear, dense, friend, I'm showing you the way home."

Freddy stared at Damien in mute amazement a moment. Of _course_ he should've known it! He had come back, through a child. The bastard of that whore, Alice. He would've made it too, had the slut and that bitch mother of his not conspired to turn his Jacob away from him. But now...now he had _three_ babies, with the combined energy and the boost of multi-demensional energies tying them all together. And two of those whores knew nothing about him, they wouldn't know to stop him, or how. He threw back his head and laughed, pure, unrestrained joy. Damien, watching, laughed with him. How much fun this was going to be! _Enjoy it while it lasts, whores_ Freddy thought. _Enjoy it, cos Daddy's coming home._


	11. Don't Dream, It's Over

Chapter 8--Don't Dream, It's Over

**Springwood**

Maggie was in Heaven. Standing at the sink, washing dishes after dinner, the sounds of Doc and Tracy arguing amiably in the living room. Just like family. _Family_. That word hadn't sounded so familiar, so normal, to Maggie in years. Not since _He'd_ entered her life and turned it upside down. But now, it fit just fine. The Survivor's Club had become Family, a true one. Maggie could live with that. She turned on the tap to rinse a glass she'd washed and splashed water on herself. Looking down at her soggy shirt, she chuckled as she remembered an old wives' tale her adopted mother had told her as a child. _Unless you want a large family_, Momma was fond of saying, _keep your shirt dry, child. A wet stomach means lots of babies. _Momma didn't know how that tale had gotten started any more than Maggie had, but they'd both been careful to keep their tummies dry while doing the dishes. Maggie's smile grew as she thought what life might be like, having a large family. Lots of kids. With Doc. Footsteps resounding through the house, lots of light and laughter and love. Tracy as doting older sister, giving advice and wisdom, cheerfully complaining about having to babysit, and adorable little faces with shades of her husband, phyiscal proof of their love. Maggie pictured it and laughed out loud, a full sound of sheer delight and unrestrained joy that she couldn't remember herself doing for forever.

Life was good, Maggie reflected. Other than that one nightmare several months ago, Maggie had had no problems. In fact, she'd flourished in the past few months. They all had. Tracy was doing much, much better in school now, determined to finish and go on to collage. She'd even gotten a part-time job at the local diner, and had met a nice boy there, Greg. He was in his freshman year of college and was a calming influence on Tracy. He'd been over a lot recently for dinner, chatting and laughing with the family, his cheerful face and gentle demeanor bringing out a gentle side in Tracy none of them knew she had. Doc had taken to the boy instantly; they shared a lot of interests. Greg had even gotten them to start going to services at the local non-denominational church. Maggie was glad. She herself had never much interest in religion, but she knew Doc, in spite of his protests, was an inherently religious man. And goodness knew that what they'd all been through together had brought them to believing in a higher Power. The change was good for everyone.

Doc was doing better than ever too. Maggie thought about her husband and laughed again. He'd come out of his shell and had stopped acting like his sole purpose was to protect "his girls" from evil. Maggie loved the sound of his laughter and his attempts to "beautify" the house for them. His woodworking projects were all over the house, cabinets and shelves and other bits and bobs. Tracy loved to pick on him while he sweated and cursed over each labor of love. And he was thrilled with Maggie's pregnancy. His handsome, craggy face wreathed in a smile every time he looked at or touched her stomach. When he wasn't working or fixing something around the house he was poring over pregnancy books, determined to share in each and every moment with Maggie.

With all the daydreaming of kids Maggie had been doing, at first she thought she was just dreaming them. There were kids outside, in her back yard, jumping rope. Maggie blinked, rubbed her eyes with her wet hands, then looked again. They were still there, dressed much like her mother used to dress her up for Church when she was little, all in Sunday best. Stiff white and startched ruffles; shiny patented leather shoes. Maggie's first thought was to wonder why the heck they were all dressed up like that to be playing outside; they were going to get all dirty! Her second thought was to wonder just what they were doing in her backyard when there were so many other, better, places to play. Her third thought was that somehow it all seemed so _familiar_ to her, but she couldn't place the feeling. As she pondered this, one of the children playing outside turned to her. What happened next chilled her blood.

The little girl in lace and ruffles turned and looked dead into Maggie's eyes with a clear blue gaze; her shiny white-blonde hair flashed in the moonlight as the girl spun around. Her little rosebud mouth curved upward in a smile and she held out a tiny hand in invitation. "Maggie," she called out in a crystal voice that somehow sounded _inside_ Maggie's head, "Maggie, won't you come play with us? He wants you to join us." Before Maggie's disbelieving gaze, the girl changed. Her skin, alabaster only a moment ago, blackened and crisped. Her hair crackled and fell away from her head, blowing on the breeze like strands of burnt cotton candy. Maggie shuddered at the imagry and opened her mouth to scream; nothing came out. She tried again as the girl took a step toward her, scorched flesh dropping from charred bones with every movement. Maggie heard laughter in her head, then that hated, almost forgotten voice purred in her ears again.

"_Katherine_," touched her inides while she squeezed her eyes shut, tears tracking down. "_Blood is thicker than water, little girl. Look at it, look at it_." Maggie kept her eyes glued shut, shaking her head wildly in denial. She saw in her mind's eye the glass she was still holding, it turned in her hand, splintering and regathering into a crystal image of an all-too-familiar glove. Hot, it was too hot in here and Maggie fought for air as the glass glove reached for her, digging into her palm. Four crimson lines bloomed in her hand as she squeaked in fear, her screams refusing to find voice...the only voice she could hear was the one in her head and it wouldn't let her go.

"_Feel it, Katherine, look at it. The sins of the Mother...KATHERINE!!!_" The lines became deeper, the pain was excruciating. The screams trapped in her throat found purchase then and Maggie screamed, screamed as the hateful glass glove crawled toward her wrist, dragging pain in its wake. The children giggled and jumped rope; Maggie turned her face to up and howled. She could hear voices behind her, concern and questions but God, they sounded so far away, they'd never reach her in time. Black spots appeared in her vision and grew, tempting her, promising an out. Maggie lept for the blackness, promising escape from this hell, a darkness that held no terror, no nightmares. She lept, and

"Maggie? Oh God, MAGGIE!!"

She saw Doc's face above hers, lines of shock etched into the face she loved so much. Arms reaching for her, but the blackness had wrapped its arms around her and wouldn't let go. Maggie gave in and Doc floated away.


	12. A Brand New Nightmare

A Brand New Nightmare

_Sleep, my children, sleep. There's plenty enough of me to go around. And round. And round._

The dream started off wonderfully. Katherine was a girl again, running through a field. Flowers bloomed everywhere in a riot of color, tickling her bare legs as she ran. She wore a white dress and her brown hair was done up in pigtails, just like Mama had always done her hair then. She felt free, more free than she had in years, and she laughed, a sound full of childish wonder and delight. The sun had been shining, and it felt good on her upturned face.She never wanted to end.

The the rain had started.

It had felt nice at first. Warm little droplets splattering her. Then the rain had turned cold, hard, pelting her with bits of ice. Confused, then slightly afraid, she'd turned and run, trying to find a warm, dry place to hide from the rain. That's when the field of flowers had vanished. She'd turned, having the worst feeling of something behind her. That's when she'd smacked something hard. Turning, she found herself facing a brick wall pressed against her nose. She was more suprised at its appearance than hurt from running into it, and, puzzled, she'd turned to go back the way she'd come. That's when she'd found herself on the street.

_What the...???_

It was a street she'd never seen before, yet it seemed oddly familiar to her. There was nowhere else to go, so she let her feet lead her down the walk. She didn't want to go, but she'd felt oddly compelled to walk. Walking was better than the alternative, standing still and giving her brain time to think about her situation. Thinking led to

_Him_

bad things. So she'd walked, and walked, and walked. The walk had seemed endless. Stopping for a moment, Katherine closed her eyes to try to sort things out. When she opened them again, she was startled to find herself in front of a house. It was one of those scary houses, old and falling apart. A cracked walk led to the front door, which hung crookedly in its jamb. The yard was a neglected wilderness of weeds and dead flowers. But there were children playing in the front yard. Skipping rope like they didn't have a care in the world. All the children were blond and wearing white, all white, much like her own dress. She looked down and was stunned to see her chest, a woman's chest, breasts sticking out in a prominent display of womanhood. Puzzled she frowned, then looked up again. The kids were still playing, singing something that sounded like a chant of sorts.

_One, two, Freddy's coming for you. Three, four, better lock your doors...._

Katherine wondered what sort of song they were singing. She didn't have time to think more on it, though, because a little blond girl peddled up to her on a shiny red tricycle. The girl couldn't have been more than maybe five years old. The girl stopped at Katherine's feet and offered a sunny smile. Somewhat appeased, though still troubled, Katherine smiled back.

"Hi," the girl said. "What's your name?"

"Katherine," she replied. "What's yours?"

"My name's Maggie. Did you come to play?" the girl asked.

Katherine frowned. She didn't know anybody named Maggie, let alone any young kids, but for some reason the name touched off a spark of recognition in her. She frowned again, then answered the girl.

"No, I didn't come to play, sweetie," Kathering crooned. "I came to..." came to what? she wondered. Again, she didn't have time to sort out exactly why she was there, as the little girl had started to ride her bike in circles around Katherine, softly singing to herself.

"You really should come inside to play with us, Kathy," the girl said. "We get ever so lonely here. This is where _he_ lives, and he hasn't brought us anyone to play with in a long time. We get lonely. But you could come play with us, Kathy. We can have so much fun together." With that, the little girl veered away from Katherine and headed for the house. The other kids stopped jumping rope and followed the girl to the front door.

"Wait!" Katherine yelled, giving chase. The other children kept filing into the house, but the little girl on the bike stopped long enough to look back at her. "We have to go in," she said. "He's been gone a long time, but now he's home and he gets mad if we don't come when he calls. You really should come with us. We get lonely...." with that, she scooted off her trike and toddled into the house. Katherine was truly concerned now and gave chase. She was afraid of the house, but she was more afraid of the little girl's words and the other children entering what seemed the door to Hell. So she followed, thinking only of their safety, perhaps getting them out of the house if she had to. Katherine raced up the steps and into the house. Inside, she got a shock. The house was well-kept, seemed freshly painted, freshly carpeted, and the furniture was brand new. _Maybe I was wrong? _she thought. _Maybe this really is a nice place, it just looks bad from the outside but it's really a nice place. Run by an old man, perhaps, who takes care of the kids but can't, or hasn't, gotten around to fixing the outside just yet. Maybe he needs some help finishing the place. _

Katherine turned to go back out, intending to see the house number so she could remember it, perhaps call one of the producers of her show to see what they could do about helping, when she got another shock. The door, which had been about to fall from its hinges only a moment before, was now closed. Firmly. Locking her in. With a little shriek of suprise, Katherine lept at it, grabbing the handle and turning with strength borne of newly discovered fear. The door held, refusing to respond to her desire to open it. That's when she heard a voice. It was calling her name, a low, gutteral voice full of mocking hatred and glee. Despite herself, Katherine turned around and saw that the formerly pristine room was now in a shocking state of decay. Moldering wallpaper and bits of carpet were everywhere, rotten furniture and fallen beams. Shocked and blinking, Katherine could only stand riveted to the spot, watching as the children filed in again, only this time they were little cadavers, tiny corpses all pointing and chanting at her.

_Hush, little baby, don't you cry,_

_Freddy's gonna sing a lullabye._

_And when his lullabye is through_

_That will be the end of you._

Katherine started to cry, but found she still couldn't move. A shadow appeared on the staircase, coming down. She couldn't see anything but the shadow, though it was approaching, step by awful slow step. And she still couldn't move. And the kids were still singing that blasted song.

_At his hour of greatest need,_

_Freddy's here to steal your seed._

_The game begins again, he plays for keeps_

_When he comes a-callin', no one sleeps._

Sobbing with fear, Katherine turned and all but clawed at the door. She _had _to get out of here! But the door stubbornly refused to budge. And she felt something behind her, a presence, evil as anything she could imagine. Katherine refused to turn around again, even when she felt a body press against her back. A man's body, she judged, even as she continued to twist at the doorknob. A slimy tongue ran over the ridge of her ear and the body pressed closer with sickening familiarity. She still didn't turn even though her stomach caved in on itself with terror. The voice was at her ear now, rough at first, but sliding in register until it was a voice she recognized, had hoped to never hear again. Dale!

"Hey pretty," the voice oozed against her ear. "Still fucking your black stallion?" Katherine almost turned then and there to slap the shit out of Dale, but something deep in her told her that would be a big mistake, so she stayed plastered to the door, still twisting at the knob and praying silently that she be allowed to escape. "Dale" was only amused by her antics; he kept talking, almost crooning in her ear as she sought to free herself.

"He'll never have you," 'Dale' said to her back. "He'll never have you the way I will, every night. Do you really think that's _his_ bastard you're carrying inside you? The baby's mine bitch, and you are too! One big, happy fuckin' family." The voice changed again, turning darker, more sinister. Katherine felt an arm slide around her waist and she fought it with everything she had in her, though it did no good. A palm pressed against her stomach.

"Let Daddy see what's going on in here," the voice grated. Clawed fingernails tore through her nightgown and Katherine screamed as the hand became more insistant, digging into her stomach, which suddenly grew, swelling far larger than it should be at only four months along. She looked down in time to see the claws tear into her flesh; blood seeped from the cuts as "Dale's" voice called out triumphantly "Contact!!! Come to Daddy, you little fucker!" Another hand tore at her shoulder, spinning her around even as the claws at her stomach dug in deeper. The pain was unbearable. She screamed yet again, looking up into a hellish face, burnt and scarred beyond recognition. Insane eyes leered down at her, partially hidden by a dark brown Fedora hat. She got a glimpse of a dirty, torn red-and-green striped sweater before she was jerked closer to the man.

"They're mine, MINE! You're all my children now! You're gonna help me get back to Springwood, bitch, you and your brats!" The man lifted the claws from her stomach and raised them over his head. Instinctively, Katherine struck out at his face, trying to get away. She heard screaming and her name being repeated, but she didn't care. She only thought about getting out, getting away, defending herself and her

_babies?_

child before this crazy thing pretending to be a man hurt them.

"Dr. Krueger? Katherine? Katherine, snap out of it, snap OW, _SHIT_!!!"

Katherine looked up in time to see Mark Williams, one of the camera people on her crew, as his head snapped back, his pale hand flying up to hold his nose, now streaming blood. She thought crazily for a moment that whoever screaming really needed to stop so she could think, then realized the one screaming was her. She struggled a bit longer against the arms holding her, then dimly became aware of Alan, her Alan, holding her, his dark face pale with worry as he gently shook her. He was saying something but she couldn't make out the words. She was babbling over him, telling Mark she was sorry, telling them all she was sorry, that she was just trying to get away from the _man._ Then she stopped, wildly looking around. She was on the set of her show, and everyone was looking at her with varying expressions of dismay, concern, or, in Mark's case, glaring balefully at her. She gently pushed Alan away and stood.

"I...I'm sorry. I have to use the lady's room." She shook her head at Alan, who was still asking her if she was okay, what had happened. She shrugged off his grasping arms and fled to the employee's restroom, ignoring the shocked looks and well-meaning questions as she locked herself into the room. Katherine leant against the door a few seconds, drawing in a ragged breath as she tried to pull herself together and figure out what had happened. She stood and walked over to the sink, turning on the water and letting it warm. She was just about to bend over to scoop up some water to splash her face with when a sharp pain from her stomach made her pause. She looked down and saw ragged gashes in her shirt, seeping blood. _What the HELL??_ she wondered, then reached down to open the rips in her shirt. Four cuts appeared across her abdomen, shallowly seeping blood. Katherine lifted her bloody fingers to eye level, then burst into tears.

"What's happening to me? To my baby?" she wondered out loud. A hellish chuckle sounded beside her and her head snapped up to the mirror above the sink. The ghostly image of the burnt man appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her again as he bent to her ear.

"I've come to claim our babies, Katherine. This is only the beginning, bitch." the voice cackled again and Katherine screamed for the umpteenth time, striking out at the mirror, suceeding in hurting her hand as turned and clawed at yet another door, seeking escape. The man was nowhere to be seen, but his chuckle followed her out into the main room as she literally ran into Alan, whose arms immediately came up protectively around his lady.

"What happened, Kathy?" his face loomed above hers, love, fear, and concern in his eyes. She could only shake her head before she blacked out. Alan lifted her in his strong arms and carried her to a couch, screaming for someone to get a doctor. The last thing Katherine noticed was Alan's arms, holding her, that and the hellish laughter that sought to follow her into the blackness.


	13. Baby Makes Six?

**Sorry once again that it took so long to update. My rt and my health has made doing anything pretty much impossible, and I've just not had the same "ooomph" for doing this story as I once did. I'll try to do justice with this chapter though, but please don't expect great things this time around. I'm truly sorry. And it hasn't been beta'd so please forgive any mistakes.Lynn**

**Chapter 11Baby Makes Six?**

Maggie sat on the edge of the examination table, sweating. She really didn't want to be here doing this. But Doc had insisted, backed up by a frightened Tracy. So here she sat while the nurse took her vital signs with a fake cheer Maggie really didn't care too much for. She sighed inwardly. Okay, so she'd passed out, big deal. Didn't pregnant women do that all the time? She stubbornly ignored the voice in her head that kept trying to remind her of

_him_

the fact that pregnant women usually didn't have scary waking dreams moments before they passed out. That, and her family's concern, was the only reason Maggie was still here. Her rapidly darkening thoughts weremercifullyinturrupted by the arrival of her doctor.

"Maggie," Doctor Carter greeted as he walked briskly into the room. "How's my favorite patient today?" He smiled at her in much the manner that annoying nurse had and it was all Maggie could do not to snap at him. _Not too sweet today, Doc. My dear, dead Father made my water glass a fucking glove and tried to slice me to ribbons with it. Other than that, the day sucked. And you? _She said nothing though, just stared at him wearily.

Doctor Carter looked at her a moment, uneasy without knowing why. Then his brisk manner snapped back into place as he guided an unresponsive Maggie to lie back, repeating what the nurse had relayed to him about Maggie's "accident", Doc's story of Maggie cutting herself with a broken glass while washing dishes then passing out, and explaining that he was going to do an ultrasound to make sure the baby was okay and the fall didn't do any damage. Maggie still didn't say anything and the doctor took in her too-pale skin, the shadows under her eyes, and the haunted look in them. He'd noticed the same look in her husband's eyes, and the eyes of the girl who'd come in with them. Their daughter, they'd said. Each one of them looked like Hell was chasing them, and the thought that Maggie had tried to kill herself flashed briefly across his mind. He dismissed the thought though. Though it was the first time he'd met the daughter, he'd seen both Maggie and Alan twice in the past month, and neither had given him any indication that either of them had been anything but thrilled, with each other and the pregnancy. So what had happened in the few short weeks since Maggie's last visit? The doctor mentally shrugged as he prepped her for the ultrasound, still murmuring assurances and explanations.

Maggie, for her part, was still silent as the doctor continued to run his mouth. She flinched a little as the cold gel was applied to her stomach and sighed inwardly. She supposed she should've said something to reassure the doctor, but she just had no desire to talk. Maggie thought unexpectedly about the music Tracy played up in her room. She listened to many different genres of music, the only common factor being that each song was loud and frentic. A line from one of Tracy's rap songs came back to her as the doctor kept babbling, and she thought it seemed quite fitting.

_Get down! Cos I ain't got nothing to lose/_

_And I'm having a bad day, don't make me take it out on YOU!_

_Amen to that, Ludacris, _she thought mildly, _A-freaking-men to that. Take the hint, Doc, and shut the fuck up. Please._ Doc didn't take the hint, however, as sunshine and puppies continued to roll from his mouth and he started the ultrasound proceedure.

"Heeeere's your bay-beee!" he trilled as he prodded her stomach with that medical thingamajiggie that made Maggie think of alien probes. Maggie wanted to look with the same excitement, but her mood had reached an all-time low and for some reason the thrill she knew she should be having just wasn't there. She bleerily looked at the screen, then back up at the doctor as he frowned a little.

"That's odd," he said, and at that Maggie perked up a bit. The doc moved the whatsit around a bit more, still frowning. "Odd, indeed. The heart monitor only picked up one heartbeat on your last visit. Hmmm..." He trailed off, prodding her stomach with the device again and Maggie finally came to life a little bit, enough to be concerned.

"What's wrong, Doctor Carter?" she asked, only dimly aware of Doc entering the room silently. He picked up on her question and the concern and came over to hold her hand. She was barely aware of the action, or of the panicked grip she gave his hand in return.

"Nothing, nothing at all," the doctor replied, though he was still frowning. "It's just that I didn't realize this was a multiple pregnancy, that's all."

"Multiple?" Maggie croaked as the hint of a memory flashed in her mind. "You mean I'm going to have..."

_babies_

"...more than one child?" The memory was trying to come back, stronger than ever, and out of reflex Maggie fought it down, the memory and the panic. The memory would mean only bad news, and Maggie didn't want any part of it. She didn't feel as Doc put more pressure on her hand, didn't see the wide smile covering his face at the news.

"Yup, looks like it," the doctor said, still moving the plastic device over her belly. "The babies are still small considering how far along you are, but...ah! There it is. Or should I say, there _they_ are. Looks like You're about to have triplets, Maggie. Congratulations!" He turned in time to see Doc's beautific smile as he whooped for joy, and also to see Maggie turn even more pale, if that was possible.

"Maggie, we're having triplets! I can't believe this," Doc crowed in triumph. He bent to hug Maggie, then noticed the shell-shocked look on her face. He mistook the look and bent down to sweep her up to her feet in a massive, yet gentle hug. "Don't worry, baby. I know things are tight financially, but we'll make it. We always do. I'll get a second job if I have to, and I'm not ashamed to get on public assistance if we have to, until we get back on our feet. Anything for our babies." He finally slowed his prattle when he noticed Maggie's expression still hadn't changed, and he set her to her feet. "Baby, what's wrong? Doctor?" He lookef from Maggie to the doctor, who wore the same expression of concern.

Maggie's head spun as the memory she'd been fighting during the visit returned full force. The kids playing outside, the voice, the glass. _Him_. She threw a panicked look at Doc, then the physician, then to the screen that had shown her her babies. They were still there, and regarding her gravely now, which was impossible, right? She was off the table, and the little plastic contraption was no longer on her stomach. But there they were, larger than they'd been a second ago, and now staring at her in accusation. As one, they opened their mouths and wailed.

_Why don't you want us?_ they screamed. _What did we do that you gave us to _HIM_? We were good, we were good, Mommy, but _HE_ wants to take us away!_ Maggie shook her head and backed away, ignoring Doc and her physician, who were now both reaching for her, trying to calm her down as she started to whimper in denial and fear. But the hated wailing kept on in her head, and the sight she hoped to never see again came into view. Him. Her father poked his head in between the first two babies, smiling that insane, obscene grin. He waggled his tongue at her, then caressed the babies in turn gently.

"Yes, _Katherine_," he purred silkily. "Tell our sweet babies here why you don't want them? Why you're denying them their legacy? You keep fighting, Katherine, but don't worry, Daddy's here now to make it all better. I'll make sure our lovely babies get what's coming to them. And you too. They're mine. You're all mine, don't you forget it, bitch." He lunged suddenly and Maggie screamed at the top of her lungs, lurching away from the men in the room.

"They're not your babies you murdering _bastard_!" she shrieked as she lunged at the monitor. "Give me back my babies!" She would've hefted the monitor then, hurled it to the ground, but arms stopped her. She spun and drew back, letting her hand lash out. Another hand caught it and she vaguely recognized Doc wrestling with her as the doctor screamed for assistance. She didn't care though. She had to save her babies from him! She tried to tear herself from Doc's grasp, but he wouldn't let her go, and the cursed him as she tried to claw her way free. A nurse burst into the room then with a syringe the doctor snatched from her hand and approached Maggie with. But there was no need. The stress of the day caught up with her and she crumpled in her husband's arms with one last, crazy thought. _Two blackouts in one day. Perfect, just perfect. What else do you have planned for me, Father?_ That the term "Father" came to her thoughts never occured to her. She caught a brief flash of bright, white light as her head snapped back in her swoon, then her good friend Darkness welcomed her second visit of the day.


End file.
